


Can you hear the crack when I break?

by Ruquas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet Ending, Clumsy Clint Barton, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 27,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruquas/pseuds/Ruquas
Summary: Clint's not a lucky guy. Especially not when he stumbles down the stairs in Natasha's apartment complex and meets a cute new guy.Who doesn't seem to be gay. Or interested. Expect when he is. But Steve is trying to warn him off, Natasha is really strange about him and the strange guy in Bruce's lab isn't anything better.Bruce just tries to let the past not overshadow his possible future.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Clint Barton, Nick Fury/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 34
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you at Judy The Dreamer, who beta-read this for me! <3 
> 
> This fic contains past domestic abuse and past domestic violence in later chapters, but not between Clint and Bruce, just like behaviour that's absolutely not correct. 
> 
> I try to give a warning if something like that comes up.
> 
> This fic is finished and, if private life allowed me to, will get updated every friday until done.

He wouldn't have thought that it would be so... difficult. It's not even that he was free now, free to do and to go wherever he wanted, to do whatever he wanted - well, almost everything. It was the act of being outside itself.

Sure, he had been allowed outside during the last four years, too, but here? There were no other inmates, only a guard helping him collect his things for him and making sure that everything went fine.

As if there were people who _didn't_ want to get out of prison in the first place.

"You have everything, Banner? Is everything in the bag the same as you had when you came here?”

Bruce barely looked at the plastic bag the guard had given him. He didn’t had that much that came with him to start with. He still nodded as he put his watch around his wrist and his wallet in his jeans and weren't those moves as strange as they were familiar?

"Yeah, everything is in there. I can go now?"

The guard laughed and gave his colleague behind the bullet proof glass a nod before the door buzzed and everything went white.

"Don't worry, Banner, that's the thing most people can't handle at first," the guard said softly when Bruce stopped outside, just looking around. Sure, he was still surrounded by concrete walls and barbed wire, but it was different.

"Yeah, it's just... yes, you're right. Well, time to go."

The guard nodded and stepped back to the door.

"Good luck. And try not to land back in here. Seriously. You don't belong in here," the guard remarked before he went inside again, leaving Bruce outside to handle everything alone.

Bruce took a deep breath and started walking to the front gate.

The guard was new. New enough that he still tried to make it right. New enough to judge people by the way they were behaving in prison. Sure, Bruce wouldn't go back, never again, but that didn't mean it didn’t leave a sour taste in his mouth that the guard had thought he didn't belong in there.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Or out in this case, I guess."

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the familiar voice. Nothing different, no different tone, still the light teasing, still the smirk on his face. It was just different to see Tony outside with no glass between them, he guessed.

"What are you doing here?" he said instead of hugging his friend because he didn't know if he could handle that right now. Maybe in a few days when his head wasn't swimming and he could concentrate on all those tips the therapist had given him.

"Oh, I was in the neighbourhood and thought about how you were being released today. Not that you told me. My lawyer told me that, because he gets a shit ton of money and probably thought that I wanted to know, which I really did. But I get why you didn't say anything. So, need a ride?"

"No, Tony. That's not... I can't," Bruce tried to say, trying to somehow explain to Tony that he couldn't handle getting into a small car after years in his cell. He couldn't explain to Tony that he was just too much at the moment, but then again, Tony had always been _a bit much to handle_. That's why they became friends at college. Well, one reason of many.

Tony sighed and took off the shades he was wearing. He looked more tired than Bruce felt and that said a lot.

"Listen. I know it's probably a lot right now. But you can't walk back to the city. Okay, no, scratch that, I know you could. But we are still talking about 20 miles and that's a lot and it's hot and I just really missed my best friend. I brought the Cabrio, so you won't feel caged, but if you really can't, that's okay."

Bruce swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. He had missed Tony, too. And hearing that, hearing that Tony even thought about how Bruce would feel in a car? That's just... different. A bit hard to handle. So he nodded and Tony smiled a bit before leading the way to a car that was flashy and expensive and would scream midlife-crisis for around ninety percent of the world population.

It suited Tony, though.

"How's Steve?" Bruce asked when he got in, feeling more tired than the last four years combined.

"Good. He's good. Not happy, but that's Steve for you. I have a job offer for you, starting Monday. And you can move into one of the apartments - rent will be taken out of your loan." Tony said while he started the car and Bruce... started to laugh. It was just such a strange situation. He had seen guys coming back because they couldn't find a simple job flipping burgers or a shithole to live, and here was Tony Stark, offering a job and a place to live to a felon. It shouldn't be funny, but it was.

"Way to make someone feel insecure, Brucey-bear."Tony muttered and Bruce tried to get himself together.

"I appreciate it, but have you _actually_ thought about that for a short while? I'm a felon, I can't get a security clearance and I'm sure even your canteen staff needs one. And what about your other tenants? How would they like it when I'm moving in?"

Tony just waved his concerns away as if they weren't something important. Bruce doubted that they were important for Tony.

"I threw money at it, money did nice things, and my lawyers say you can work for me. They said something about national security to the right people, I think. I don't know. I didn't ask. That's why I pay them. So, you get your clearance back. Be nice to it, pet it a bit, don't give it up again. And for the other tenants, most of them work for me, too. Sure, the occasional odd ball there doesn't, but you know I offer cheaper housing for my staff."

Bruce sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes and just feeling the wind in his hair.

"Also, I don't see why it should be a problem. As long as you're calm and staying out of trouble, people won't mind. Or at least only behind closed doors, because while the government can't flaunt that they have given a felon a security clearance just because Stark Industries asked for it, it's also not allowed to give up your status as felon. And, I mean, Natasha is still living in that building, I think people are more afraid of her. And she's working for a pre-school. Also, it would look better on record and you need a permanent address anyway because you're on parole."

Bruce opened his eyes again at looked at Tony before nodding and then shook his head.

"Just... drop me off at a hotel. For now, not for always," Bruce hastened to say when he saw Tony's looked crushed.

"I need to meet up with my parole officer tomorrow first thing. I will talk to them because I don't have a clue if I'm allowed to take a job like that, Tony. I don't even know what is expected from me, really, until I meet with them. Give me that, yeah?"

Tony nodded, still looking on the road but Bruce could've sworn that there had been another smile.

"Sure thing, Brucey-bear. Sure thing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a few changes of my schedule in the last week, I have the time to upload twice a week! So you get a new chap each monday and each friday. Yaaay!
> 
> Have fun reading <3

It was strange waking up and then knowing that he had nothing to do, in theory. Not like in prison, where he just tried to kill time with reading and meditation and yoga and his therapy groups. It was just... standing up, going to the parole officer and then... nothing. In theory, he could do whatever he wanted and no one would look at him funny. No one would try to pick a fight. No one would threaten to throw him into solitary. It was kind of overwhelming. So, waking up and being free to do whatever he wanted without anyone judging? That was nice. Creepy, but nice.

It was still strange that he was now responsible for himself again. Standing up and showering was one thing. Paying for the hotel room was easy, too. Kind of. He just had to ignore Tony laughing at him because Bruce refused to pay via card. But finding a place to eat? That was just surreal.

Seeing people on the subway? Trying not to just stop walking and looking around? That was difficult. And if he had thought prison was loud, then the streets of New York were like standing under a waterfall or next to a plane taking off.

He decided to walk to the parole officer's office. It wasn't that far away and he really, really didn't want to be in a small metal container under the earth with a lot of different people.

But when he finally arrived at the office (with ten minutes to spare, just to be sure), it wasn't really anything like he expected. It was more like a hall that had different offices attached to it. He walked along the hall until he found the office he needed and knocked.

"Yes?"

Bruce wasn't proud of himself for stopping when he heard the female voice. It was a job like every other job. He was still surprised. Even more so when he opened the door and the woman looked... so out of place. Yet, at the same time, she didn't and he couldn’t place why. It was probably the most curious thing he'd seen today, and he'd already seen a lot of weird things today. New York had certainly gotten crazier while he had been in prison.

"Ms. Danvers?" he asked, just to be sure. He really, really didn’t want to make a fool out of himself by sitting in the wrong office with the wrong parole officer just because he got something mixed up.

"Not exactly what you expected?"

"I didn't even know what I expected until you answered the door," he said honestly because, no matter what, if she wanted to, this woman could send him back to prison with only one phone call.

"Yeah. I get that from a lot of people. You're Bruce Banner? Sit down."

Gingerly he sat down and looked at her.

"So. Uhm. How exactly does that work?" he asked when he finally found a comfortable position.

"First time, right? Okay, it's pretty easy, or at least it should be pretty easy. We both meet each other every week. Can be more if you're a bad boy, can be less if you're a good boy. Doesn't always have to be the same time and day, but that also depends on how you're behaving yourself," she started and sat up a bit straighter. If Bruce would have to guess, she had been in the military. Rhodey had the same air around him like Danvers.

"You have two weeks to find a job and a permanent address. If you need help with the latter one, I can give you a few addresses that accept felons. It's not the Ritz but it's something. Until then, I need a way to contact you and I need the address where you’re staying. So far, so good?"

Bruce nodded and got his phone out of his pocket before taking a piece of paper and writing down his phone number. Danvers nodded.

"I got a job offer from a friend. I don't know how, but he says it won't be an issue to get a security clearance for that, but I didn't take it because I didn't know if you would need to give your approval first."

"Good thinking. Wish all people were like that. Yes, I need to talk to your employer first, especially if this job needs a security clearance. Just write down the contact information and I call you as soon as I talked to them and made a decision. Back to the housing - you need help?"

Bruce wrote down the contact data for Tony and Tony's lawyer (even though he was kind of embarrassed that he still knew that information by heart) and then shook his head.

"No. I... I would like to try it on my own at first. I'll update you next week if that's okay?"

"That's fine,” she smiled. “Only one thing, though, even though I'm sure, or at least I hope, you're not stupid enough to forget. You have a standing restraining order of 600 feet against Emil Blonsky, but I don't think that will come as a surprise."

Bruce sighed and shook his head before standing up, shaking her hand and walking out of the office. That went better than expected. He took his mobile phone out and dialed Tony, already knowing that Tony would take the call. He didn't really believe that during his time in prison, Tony had actually started attending meetings.

"Bruce! Pleasant surprise. I take it you’re not dead? I was already worried because you haven’t been answering the calls or texts I’ve sent" Tony greeted him. Bruce sighed and shook his head, even though he knew Tony couldn't see.

"I've just finished with the meeting my parole officer," he started, already knowing that Tony only half-listened when he heard metal shrieking in the background. That was okay. There was a reason Tony recorded all his personal calls.

"She needs to check the job offer first. I don't know if she calls you or your lawyers, but I gave her both numbers. If everyone is on board, she'll call me and I can start."

"Sounds good. Have you thought about the apartment?"

A loud thunking noise could be heard and Tony started cursing at someone.

"Yes. I’ll take the apartment as long as it's nothing too fancy."

Tony sighed, but at least he stopped cursing.

"I'll send you the address and the apartment number. Pepper told me that the apartment is more than enough for one single person. Natasha lives in that complex, she never complained or killed me, so I think it's okay. Apartment should be ready by twelve."

Bruce chuckled and looked at the clock.

"It’s a quarter past, Tony."

There was silence before Tony cleared his throat.

"One. I meant one. I'll send you the address."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings in this chapter except that I have absolutely no clue how law works in the US. I tried to research it, but I cannot guarantee that anything is correct.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here, have fun!

Everything went better than Bruce expected. It was almost too good to be true, but he wouldn't complain.

Danvers had talked to Stark Industries and had called the next day that he could start the job. Tony had been like a little child on Christmas, and even though Bruce didn't want to admit it, he had been happy too. It was nice that he could work in a scientific field again, because he knew most guys had to turn to flipping burgers or a job at a garage or something similar after prison, no matter if they wanted to or not. If they found a job at all, that was.

And when he finally had the keys to his apartment, he found out that Tony -- or Pepper, to be exact -- was right. He had a three room apartment containing a kitchen, a living room and a bedroom that wasn't any bigger than the other rooms. The bathroom wasn't too small or too big, and overall, it was nice. The neighbourhood seemed pleasant and Danvers had been real sceptical when Bruce gave her the address, but had accepted it.

But the best thing? Being able to work again. Bruce hated to admit it, but even though he had already learned to be a bit more laid back in prison, he still loved his work. Working next to Tony again with all those fancy instruments? That was probably the best thing ever. It also meant that he lost track of time, so it wasn't unusual to come back home late at night like today.

It was just a few minutes shy of midnight when Bruce heard a noise behind him in the hall as if something heavy fell down, followed by someone cursing and another thunk. Confused, he turned around, his mail that he had retrieved still in his hand.

"Can I help you?"

The guy sat up suddenly from his place on the ground and looked around wildly until he saw Bruce standing there, watching him, and smiled sheepishly.

"Uhm. Hi. No. Just... fell over my bootlaces. Nothing unusual. Well, not for me, for any other grown up probably. Also, I'm Clint."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, before nodding slowly and going over to the other man, offering his hand.

"Bruce Banner."

Clint grinned up at him and reached for Bruce's hand, first to shake it and then to pull himself up before bending down and tying his shoelaces. The guy was pretty. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile. And a nice body, but not that Bruce would know.

"So, you live here? Aw, no, of course you do, you have mail. I'm sorry, I just woke up, kind of, and came here directly because I forgot that I needed to meet someone."

Bruce chuckled lightly.

"Yes, I do. I take it you are just visiting?"

He held up two non-descript plastic bags.

"Yeah. I'm here quite a lot and tonight I got invited for movies and ice cream. Probably an excuse to send me on an ice cream run, but I don't say no to movies."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply when he heard a strangely familiar voice, although he hadn't heard it in quite a long time.

"There you are. If you don't come in, the ice cream melts. And then you’d need to go and buy new tubs."

Natasha. Bruce swallowed. She hadn't really changed much. Her once blonde hair had grown out, more red now than anything else, leaving only the tips blonde. She got a few soft wrinkles along the eyes, but otherwise she looked exactly the same.

"Hey Bruce."

Clint stared at her before looking back to Bruce and then back to Natasha.

"Natasha. Good to see you."

She inclined her head and gave him a small smile while she nodded. Then she looked back at Clint and crooked her finger.

"Ice cream, Clint."

"Oh. Yes. Sorry," Clint said, almost as if he had forgotten why he was even there, and Bruce could understand that. Natasha looked good and even on her worst days she still had an aura of command about her.

"It was to meet you. Really nice. We should do that again. Not the meeting, obviously, but the talking. Well, also the meeting but….So, bye!" Clint mumbled before almost running up the stairs. Natasha didn't move.

"I didn't know you were back," she said, still with a smile on her face. She didn't sound judgemental or disgusted which was good, he supposed.

"Yes. For two weeks now. Tony offered me a job and an apartment. How are you?"

"Fine. I'm sorry I didn't come more often. I got sent on an extended mission. You want to come in?"

Anyone else and Bruce would have had to ask what she meant. But Natasha wasn't anyone else. He had met her through Steve, both still soldiers at that time. And that had been a long time ago.

"No. Thank you."

She nodded, knowing that he didn't want to avoid her. He just wanted to avoid new situations. New people. Wanted to avoid the pretty guy that was clearly smitten with her.

Overall, Bruce just wanted to sleep and Natasha knew that. She knew that if he worked for Tony, he could be a workaholic as much as he wanted to without someone noticing it, because Tony was even worse than Bruce.

"Goodnight, Bruce," she said and turned around, leaving Bruce in the hall, mail still in his hand.

~*~*~

Eagerly, Clint stared at the door, ice cream long forgotten on the coffee table. If someone wanted it to be cold, then they could put it in the freezer, but neither Fury nor Bucky were moving so Clint didn't do so either. Also, if he moved he would miss Natasha coming through the door, hopefully with the stranger named Bruce.

When she finally came back, he was disappointed that there was no Bruce.

"You know him? You've known him for long? Please tell me he's single!" Clint started blurting out, eliciting a surprised grunt from Bucky. Even the normally stoic Fury raised an eyebrow! 

"I knew him a long time ago, Clinton. I don't know if he's single. I just met him again," Natasha said and threw a disapproving glare at the melting ice cream before she got herself a spoon and put the other container in the fridge.

"Who?" Bucky asked. He could pretend to be oblivious all he wanted to, but Clint knew that Bucky was interested in whatever happened around him. He was even worse than Tony sometimes and that said a lot.

"Met this guy, Bruce. He said he lives here. Well, he didn't say it per sé, but he had mail in his hand and I doubt that it was someone else's mail and he also asked me if I lived here."

 _Now_ he had Bucky's complete attention.

"Bruce?"

"Bruce Banner. Do you know him? Please say yes!"

Clint couldn’t even pretend that it didn't matter. The guy seemed to be nice and had friendly eyes and Clint really wished he would have found the courage to ask Bruce if he could pet his hair, just to see if it was as soft as it looked.

But it wasn't Bucky who answered.

"He works for Stark. Must be important or dangerous, because he always has at least two guards with him on most days, on some days three. Takes a hell of rescheduling," Fury said, eying the container of melted ice cream with disdain, as if it had insulted his mother. Natasha just smiled at him and bent over to give him a sticky kiss on the mouth.

"Did you say _Bruce Banner_?" Bucky finally asked, sounding kind of shocked. Clint frowned and nodded before looking at Natasha, who looked suspiciously entranced by her ice cream goo.

"Yes? Why?"

"Uhm, just... don't know, Tony and Stevie had a big fight because of him a few years back. I don't know what happened but it was bad enough that they almost called it quits. I think they even broke up for a few weeks. At least Steve slept on my couch back then for a bit."

Huh. That was... confusing. Steve and Tony were the kind of couple that everyone else wanted to be, but no one liked to be _around_ them when they were separated. It always seemed as if nothing could break them apart. Having a fight that almost breaks them up? That was unheard of.

"Stop gossiping like teenage girls," Natasha suddenly chided while reaching for the remote.

"Steve invited us on Saturday, and as Tony is the one who is throwing the party, I'm sure Bruce will be there too. As you're all grown ups, you can ask him everything you want to know in person."

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," Bucky said in a mocking voice that made clear how long they already knew each other.

Clint just nodded. He wasn't suicidal like Bucky, thank you very much.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here except awkward Clint being awkward and Steve being overly protective as always <3

He really didn't want to be here. Sadly, he didn't really had an excuse to go home. It wasn't loud and there wasn't an unusual amount of people present - by Tony's standards, this must be a small gathering of friends.

For Bruce, it was a party with around fifty people of which he knew maybe three, and one of them actively didn't like him. He couldn't really blame Steve. It still made him uncomfortable. Also, he didn't understand why he had to be here. It was _Steve's_ promotion they were celebrating. Most people here were _Steve's_ friends. He appreciated that Tony tried to get Bruce to be among people again, but if one thing hadn't changed since prison, it was that Bruce really wasn’t a people person.

"Hey! Hi, Bruce!"

Surprised, Bruce turned around. Clint stood there, smiling a bit and gave him a small wave. Then again, Clint was probably here with Natasha as she was Steve's sister, so... Bruce shouldn't be as surprised as he was.

"Clint. Nice to see you," he said, trying to ignore the way the purple shirt stretched across the man’s chest.

"Yeah, you too. Sorry that I had to run the other day."

"That's okay. Natasha can be a quite a scary woman. It's probably difficult to keep up with her."

Clint laughed and came a bit closer, but not too close. As if he could see how uncomfortable Bruce was.

"Oh, yeah. Natasha is scary, for sure, but when she's unhappy she will pout and her boyfriend will do everything to make the pout go away. Have you met Fury? Seriously, he's almost as scary as Natasha."

Bruce could only blink. Fury... as in Nick Fury? Tony's head of security for Stark Industries? Did that mean Clint wasn't together with Natasha?

"Uhm. Yeah. I met him. Once," Bruce answered instead of asking if Clint was single or gay or even bi.

"See? You know what I'm talking about. You work for Tony?"

"Yes. We're working on a few ways to connect the... uhm, the brain with damaged nerves. Tony has already gota prosthesis to function while it's connected to the brain and now we would like to make sure people can use the nerves they still have. That’s basically the thing we try…. if that made any sense for you."

Clint grinned and shrugged.

"I barely have a GED, I'm sure it makes sense for someone who is is a bit more clever than me with my street smarts."

"I'm sure you could understand more of it when someone who isn’t me explains it. I'm bad at explaining things," Bruce said and smiled when Clint laughed. It was a nice sound.

"What do you do? Also working for Tony?"

"Nah. I'm working as a safety consultant. Mostly, people ask me to break into their companies or houses and pay me to tell them how I did that. It's actually pretty cool."

Bruce blinked and then shook his head.

"That's... an unusual job for sure. Isn't that dangerous? Or like, really difficult?"

Clint shook his head and leaned against the wall, cheeks covered in a light blush. Maybe he should ask Clint if he was interested in men? Then again, Bruce really should concentrate on other things besides ruining someone.

"I don't know. I'm an adrenaline junkie and I learned quite a few tricks at the circus, so yeah, a few things probably are difficult if you don't have some form of training," Clint said while gesturing, spilling some of the glass’s contents on his shirt.

"Aw, drink, no."

_Circus?_ Bruce was sure that he had misunderstood. Did the man just say circus, as if that was an actual thing people did?

"Circus?" he repeated, wishing he could slap himself when the grin on Clint's face disappeared and something else took its place. Almost as if Clint had forgotten something unbelievable shameful.

"Grew up in a circus. Like I said, I barely made the GED," Clint murmured and looked down and Bruce... felt bad.

"That sounds pretty interesting. How does one grow up in a circus?", he asks, hoping that Clint would look up again, smile again, anything. Just... not look sad. When he finally glanced back up, his eyes were wary.

"You don't need to pretend. I get it, don't worry," Clint said and curled into himself a bit, shoulders slumping, trying to make himself smaller.

"No, I meant that," Bruce said.

"I've never been to a circus. For me it was always a story that kids ran away and joined it, and as I never knew anyone who worked for a circus, it would be interesting to hear, if you don't mind sharing."

"Really?"

Bruce smiled and nodded and then Clint's whole face lit up, almost like a kid on christmas morning.

"Well, actually, my brother and I were two of those kids people think are just a myth. Our parents died when we were young and we didn't want to risk people breaking us apart for adoption, so we ran away. After a few days we found the circus and Barney, my brother, talked them into letting us stay. And, well, no matter what past you have, you learn some tricks, you know? I always loved the acrobats and then someone taught me to shoot arrows and perform tricks and... well, a few things I learned were just a bit more handy than others, you know?"

Bruce laughed and shook his head because, no, he didn't know, but the way Clint described everything? Like it was the most normal thing in the world? That was the best.

"I mean, sure, we may have skipped over the typical things other people learned, but I wouldn't have it any different."

"That's good. Typical isn't always the best anyway. How about your brother? Does he live in New York too?"

Clint shrugged, but Bruce could see how Clint grimaced directly, trying to hide it as soon as it happened.

"Don't know. We... stopped talking after I brought the first boy to our trailer," Clint said, his smile turning sad,if only for a short moment.

"Anyway, can I have your number?"

And that wasn't really anything Bruce had expected. Neither had Clint, if Bruce read the surprise on his face right.

"I mean, even if you're not into guys, that's still fine. I like you and would like to have..." Clint trailed off, obviously waiting for Bruce’s reply.

"I'm into guys. If you give me your phone, I can dial my number if that’s alright with you."

"Sure!" Clint practically yelled before thrusting a smartphone at Bruce that managed to simultaneously look newer and older than everything Bruce owned.

"It's a bit battered. I'm kind of clumsy. Sadly, that includes mobiles."

"I kind of figured," Bruce said with a smile. While he put his number in and pressed ‘call’, he saw Steve coming over, briefly looking like he had bit into a lemon before he cracked a smile. Bruce couldn't say if the smile was real or not and that didn't matter anyway. His own mobile started to ring.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt," Steve said without looking sorry at all, but Bruce didn't comment on that because Clint looked honestly surprised that Steve was suddenly there. Bruce canceled the call and gave Clint his mobile back.

"No problem," he said, keeping his voice carefully blank while Clint just beamed at Steve.

"Steve! You know Bruce, right? He's nice. You would probably like each other."

"I know Bruce," Steve chuckled before nodding to Natasha.

"She's looking for you."

"Oh. Sure," Clint said, sounding almost a bit sad before turning back to Bruce.

"I will call you, for sure. And if I forget to, because we are talking about me, please call me, yes?"

Bruce made a soothing gesture and watched Clint go, already deciding that he certainly wasn’t going to call. Clint was nice, really nice, and he would just fuck that up. Clint didn't need that.

"Bruce."

"Steve."

If they were anybody else, Bruce was sure they would already be fighting, but Steve wouldn’t fight him because Bruce was his boyfriends best friend and Bruce wouldn’t fight Steve because he was his best friend's boyfriend. Also, he swore to himself to never be violent again if it was not absolutely necessary.

Steve sighed and shook his head.

"Okay, that's... we both know what I think of you. Usually I wouldn't interfere, but we are talking about Clint. He's really important to Natasha and he's one of my best friends, so please do us all a favour and stay away from him."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"Didn't plan on calling, Steve. I don't need a nanny, but I don't think he needs one either."

Steve actually huffed out a laugh before turning around.

"Just making sure."

When Steve was on other side of the room again, Bruce let out a sigh before putting his glass down on a sideboard and leaving the apartment. He had known that this was a stupid idea. Steve had just confirmed it. His _head_ was also just confirming it because he felt a headache coming up. The door behind him opened.

"Steve is an idiot."

Bruce smiled and turned to Natasha.

"Sure, but he's also your brother so shouldn't you be on his side?"

"I don't know what his side is at the moment, but just because he has the same genes as me doesn't mean he's not an idiot," she said with that small smile of hers.

"It's good to see you again. I'm happy that you're back."

Bruce smiled and nodded before going to the lift.

"Don't be a stranger!", she called after him while he got into the lift. When he turned around she was still standing there, just looking at him.

"That would mean being able to hide from you.", he said, almost unreasonable happy to see the gleeful smirk on her face before the doors closed.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm stupid," he moaned into the pillow. He laid on his front on Natasha's couch, head buried in a pillow while he wallowed in self-pity, because he deserved it. All the while Natasha prepared dinner for herself and Nick, which was kind of creepy. Both were too badass to eat dinner in his head. He was still convinced they always put up a front whenever they went out to eat or when Clint ate with them. (Because Natasha had adopted Clint, he was sure, and he was also convinced that Nick was too afraid of Natasha to deny her that.)

"You're not stupid, душенька. You're just you," she said and well... that didn't exactly made Clint feel better about his lost mobile. Or the way he lost all his contacts and appointments. Especially his contacts, including Bruce's number. He had maybe cried a bit. Maybe Bucky was right and he needed to see a therapist again.

"And you really don't know which apartment lives in?" he asked for the sixth time, and just like the four times before that Natasha didn't answer. Clint sighed again, ignoring his rumbling stomach and decided that he needed to throw a letter into Bruce's mail. Just like in the seventies.

"Write a letter," she suggested as if she could read his mind; maybe she could or maybe she just knew him like the back of her hand.

"Will sound stupid," he murmured, glad that Natasha pretended that she didn't hear that as the door opened and Nick came in. She didn't understand that part of him and he was relieved that she didn't even pretend that she did. They had come to the silent understanding that she ignored it until it got really bad.

"Seriously? Again? I almost see you as often as I see my girlfriend," he heard Nick complain. Clint lifted his head to see if this was a serious complaint or not and decided to wave and smile when he thought it wasn't. Nick just raised an eyebrow and threw a box at him, making Clint smile when he saw that it was a new phone.

"I even spend almost as much money on you as on my girlfriend," he added and Natasha sighed dramatically in the background.

"Only because you refuse to buy me an island. I would love an island. There are islands in Siberia that can be bought. Why don't I have an island?"

"Because it's fucking cold there, woman," Nick grumbled, but still gave her a kiss. Clint really wanted to know how these two had met but was afraid to ask. They probably had tried to kill each other first. He couldn't just imagine those two meeting in a Starbucks or something. Or going on dates. Maybe there was a dating app for scary people?

"Come on, душенька. Food. I'm starving."

Food was nice, Clint decided. He could set up his new phone tomorrow or next week or something. When he needed it.

~*~*~

It wasn't his fault he forgot it. He had just enjoyed himself and then really needed to go to catch his train and forgot it on the coffee table. So he sighed and turned around, accepting the fact that he wouldn't catch his train and needed to wait when he turned around and his foot missed a step before he lost the ground under his feet, giving him a few precious seconds before everything suddenly felt like pain.

"Aw, stairs, no."

His day was shit. Everything was shit.

"We should stop meeting like this. Otherwise you're going to give yourself a concussion.", a voice above him said and maybe, just maybe, not everything was shit today.

"Need a hand?" Bruce asked, a small smile on his face.

~*~*~

This day had been shit, and the sad thing was that there wasn't even someone to blame. The experiments went fine. Tony wasn't unusually hectic. Bruce's brain wasn't unusually loud. People weren't unusually annoying. It had just been a shitty day. To top that he also had to come in late the next day because he had a meeting with his parole officer in the morning and still hadn't found a therapist that didn't have a waiting period shorter than three months.

Bruce had even thought briefly about calling Clint just to brighten up the day a bit with babbling from the other man, but had decided against it. He wouldn't call Clint. That would be probably easier for both of them.

But maybe someone who Bruce didn't believe in had decided to be a little nicer to him today, because he heard a loud crashing and then a small groan as Clint fell down the stairs. Sure, the other man had said he was clumsy, but Bruce hadn't believed that it would include falling down the same stairs multiple times in one week.

He hastened over to Clint.

"We should stop meeting like this. Otherwise you're going to give yourself a concussion," he said and smiled when Clint practically beamed at him before something else hurt too much and he grimaced.

"Need a hand?" Bruce asked and reached down to offer his hand. Clint nodded and let himself be pulled up, groaning again.

"I knew this day was shit," the other man grumbled before letting go of Bruce's hand. There was a small gash on Clint's forehead and another one on his hand.

"You're bleeding."

Clint sighed and shrugged.

"That's okay. I mean..." he started and then his eyes went wide.

"Bruce!"

Bruce chuckled and beckoned Clint to follow him.

"Come on. I'll patch you up," he offered, ignoring the voice in his head telling him that this was a stupid idea. It wasn't even a big injury.

For a few seconds Clint looked as if he might bolt, but then he nodded.

"That... that would be nice. I also wanted to talk to you and..."

Bruce slowly raised his hand and Clint stopped.

"Patching up first, okay?"

He was relieved when Clint nodded and started walking up the stairs. No matter how intelligent people said he was, Bruce knew that he wasn't really smart. This decision just proved it.

But then, he’d had a shitty day and on shitty days people were allowed to make stupid decisions.


	6. Chapter 6

"... and so you really have to believe me, I absolutely wanted to call, but then I fell into a pond and the phone got wet and it turned out that my phone isn't waterproof and therefore I couldn't take your call, if you called, that's it, and..."

Bruce only half-listened to the rambling Clint did while disinfecting the cuts on Clints hands and wrapping them before moving to the wound on his head, which thankfully had stopped bleeding. It didn't look so bad either.

"I didn't call you and I didn't intend to call, Clint. The wound doesn't need stitches, but you have to keep it clean and cared for."

He almost felt Clint sinking into himself when the other man stopped abruptly

"Oh. So. That's fine. Is there... I mean, it's not my business, I just thought we hit off pretty well and... I understand, though," Clint murmured, almost inaudible.

Bruce doubted that Clint understood and he doubted the reasons in Clint's head were remotely close to the ones Bruce had.

"Don't take it personal, but I don't think you understand and I think you think you know the reasons, but I'm pretty sure you don't know _my_ reasons, so don't beat yourself up," Bruce said, giving Clint a small smile while he tidied up his kitchen.

"It's okay. I was just... can I ask those reason you have?"

Bruce sighs and puts away the medical kit before looking at Clint. Then he nodded. At the very least, it was likely that Clint would see that this would be a bad idea after.

"I haven't been away. Not really, anyway. I've been in prison the last four years. I got out on parole, otherwise I would've served another three," Bruce started and almost laughed when Clint's head shot up like he’d been bitten by a tarantula.

"You what?"

"Yep. Additionally, I have several anger issues and a bad temper. I already worked on it in prison, but being out of prison is different and therefore everything is a bit overwhelming, to be honest. I mean, I only know how the newest tech works because Tony visited every week and just babbled about everything he invented. On top of that I was never good with people to start with. So, no, I don't think you know my reasons or that you can understand them. I really don't want to add those things to someone's plate."

Clint just stared at him for a few long seconds before blinking. Then he stared another few seconds. Maybe Bruce should send him to a doctor -- a real, medical doctor -- to have his head checked. Because, no matter how much he knew about medicine, he wasn't that kind of doctor.

"Did you do something to animals? Or children? Please don't say animals or children."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Even he wasn't an asshole like that. Clint smiled. Actually beamed at him before he stood up from his chair and walked over to Bruce.

"Then it doesn't matter. Everything else can be excused. Well, most everything else, but you don't seem like a terrorist and if you would be you’d probably be in Guantanamo 2.0, so, I think we're safe."

"Clint, I don't think that you..." Bruce started and got interrupted before he could even think his sentence to the end.

"Do you like fish?"

Now it was his turn to blink stupidly at Clint. _If he liked fish???_

"Also. For a date. With me. Not dating fish, obviously," Clint chuckled and scratched his head awkwardly.

"I meant like in an aquarium. It's calming, and I like to watch all those fishies swim and it's just nice. It's not loud so my hearing aids won't get any interference and that's nice. They do that sometimes at the animal shelters, but they won't let me pet all of them so it's always difficult. And fishies are nice to look at and can't be cuddled anyway."

This time, Bruce had to laugh quietly and shook his head while looking down. He didn't know why but Clint somehow absolutely looked like the kind of guy who would cuddle a fish if that would be possible without them dying.

"Okay. Maybe you can pet a ray. Some aquariums offer that."

Clint beamed and nodded before his face fell once again and he looked sheepish.

"Uhm. I left my new phone at Natasha's. Actually, that's the reason why I slipped, because I turned around and wanted to fetch it so I can't put your number in it and I don't know my new one.”

"That's okay.", Bruce said, still a small smile on his face while he fetched a pen and a paper from one of the drawers, writing down his number.

"Think you can keep it until tomorrow?" he asked and laughed when Clint huffed annoyed.

"Probably."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Mention of abusive relationships. Flashback that indicates an abusive relationship.

If someone would have told Bruce on the day he got released that he would ever go on a date in a crowded aquarium on a saturday, he would've probably laughed. A few years ago, he’d maybe have flipped them the bird.

But it went surprisingly well. Clint loved to point at the fish he knew, would make fun of a few who looked especially strange, would stare at the sharks in amazement and overall acted like one of the numerous children at the aquarium. He probably got more excited about petting a ray than most people. It was cute.

And then they went to lunch and set a date for dinner a few days later. Before Bruce could really take a break to think about how stupid this idea had been, two months had already passed and he and Clint met every week for something special, and every one or two days to eat lunch or dinner together.

And it worked. Bruce was surprised and he was sure on some days Clint was surprised, too, but it worked astoundingly good.

Good enough that when Bruce kissed Clint for the first time it didn't even feel wrong anymore to be happy to see Clint smile.

He should've known that it wouldn't last. It wasn't even something big. It was just... a headache. Nothing major, and still he found a way to blow everything up.

"... so Natasha invited us for dinner if you want to. I mean, it's nothing special, just a few friends together drinking a beer and eating. Sometimes we play one or two games of cards afterwards," Clint said while he got two glasses out of the cupboard. Bruce briefly closed his eyes, put the knife down next to the champignons and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not now, Clint, please," he murmured, but wasn't sure if it was even audible. Clint didn't react so probably not because his hearing aids were cranked up. Bruce opened his mouth to repeat himself a bit louder when Clint started again, this time getting a few plates out of another cupboard.

"Anyway, you wouldn't have to decide until thursday, because Nick usually goes grocery shopping on fridays so they can prepare everything on saturday morning and it's actually quite nice to watch them working side..."

"For God's sake, shut up, Clint!" Bruce said, louder than he intended to when the pain exploded in his head again, bathing everything in a white flash for a short second before a loud clanking noise added to the pain. Hastily, Bruce turned around to see Clint staring at the floor where the plates were laying now, broken into several pieces. Then Clints eyes snapped up before he suddenly knelt down, barely avoiding to land into the shards himself.

"Sorry. I... I didn't meant to, I'm just clumsy, I'll tidy it up in a second..." Clint started to mumble and Bruce's stomach dropped. He _knew_ that kind of reaction, had it seen before. Then Clint reached for the first big shard.

"Stop it, Clint. Just... I'll get the broom, yes? Just don't hurt yourself, okay?" Bruce said, but Clint just flinched away, the shards leaving the first cuts while Clint just mumbled several apologies. Carefully, Bruce reached out while bending down, trying not to wince when the light hit his eyes.

"Come on, those plates were old, anyway. Let's just..." Bruce tried again but didn't expect the way Clint flinched back, hitting his head on the table while crawling back, eyes looking around in panic without seeing something.

"Clint?" Bruce asked, not moving, still trying to ignore the light in his eyes, trying to ignore the strain this position put on his back. At least Clint seemed to focus now that no one was near him and then his gaze fell on Bruce, before he looked down on the broken plates. Clint closed his eyes and swallowed.

"Listen, I... I can't. I'm just..." the other man started before he was suddenly up and out of the kitchen. Bruce couldn't even comprehend how fast the other man had been before he heard the apartment door falling shut, a clear sign that Clint just left.

"Fuck," Bruce murmured before slowly getting out of his uncomfortable position. He turned off the lights and fetched the broom, thankful that one of them had turned on the small lamp in the living room. It wasn't even that bright but it was enough.

Bruce cleaned up the broken plates before turning off the stove with the boiling water and putting the vegetables away again as he scrolled down his contacts until he found Clint’s and hit the call button.

Bruce couldn't even pretend it surprised him when the upbeat japanese song that Clint put as his ringtone started to play in the living room. He bet if he would look on the coffee table that he would find Clint’s wallet there, too.

He thought briefly about going up to Natasha to give her the mobile and the wallet, but then decided against it. He didn't know if Clint was there and it was already late. And if Clint was at Natasha's apartment it was very unlikely that Clint wanted to see Bruce.

Bruce sighed and slowly went to the bedroom, swallowing when he saw the sleeping shirt Clint had brought with him the day before still lying on the ground. He would just get up a bit earlier and then he could still go up to Natasha's to give her Clint’s belongings. And if he wasn't there, Bruce could always wait in front of Stark Industries, hoping Clint would turn up for his job interview.

~*~*~

God he was stupid. He ruined everything because he couldn't keep himself together and now he had overreacted and ran away, and now Bruce wouldn't want to see him anymore and his things were still at Bruce's apartment, but Clint just couldn't bring himself to turn around to get them. No matter how stupid he felt for overreacting, he was also really afraid.

Which may be the reason he was now knocking as fast as he could on the door in front of him, hoping that Bucky was at home. Which was also stupid because Bucky was always at home because he rarely left the apartment when he wasn't at work and God, now he had to explain Bucky why he was knocking in the first place an...

" _Clint!_ "

Oh. The door was open.

"Uhm. Hey Buck. I'm sorry to disturb you but I did a stupid thing and I'm overreacting and... it was a stupid idea, I will go now."

Clint turned around and tried to suppress the shaking. God, he was cold, but he’d also left his jacket at Bruce's apartment,then there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

"You're bleeding," Bucky said and yeah, Clint knew. He hadn't really realised it, but there were enough cuts on his hands. Not deep ones and not worth the hassle. Also, his head hurt because he bumped it against something.

"Come in. I'll patch you up and then you'll explain to me why you have cuts on your hands and a bruise forming on your face," Bucky said, his voice not leaving room to argue, expression closed off.

"Would you believe me if I said it was my fault?" Clint asked, half-joking because he knew Bucky wouldn't.

"No," the other man said without looking back when Clint closed the door. Clint only nodded his head, because even though he didn't know how, he knew that Bucky would know that he was nodding.

"Sit."

Well, he couldn't really blame Bucky for being angry, right?

"I'm really sorry. I know it's late," Clint whispered while sitting down. He was tired and kind of hungry, but his stomach did funny things so it wouldn't be the best idea to eat something. Probably. It wouldn't have been as nice as whatever Bruce had prepared anyway, and with that thought, Clint felt the tears rising again.

Then suddenly Bucky was in front of him and took his hand carefully, disinfecting the cuts, obviously not refusing to look up. Clint could still see the anger on his face and in his eyes.

"So, for the ever fucking love of God, can you explain me why you are knocking on my door, bruised, with cut hands at half past eleven? I thought we left that behind us," Bucky asked, voice flat while rubbing cream on his hands.

And yeah, that was the problem, wasn't it?

"I know. I... listen, it was really my fault. I think. I overreacted," Clint whispered, feeling suddenly more tired than probably ever before. Or maybe just more than the last three years. Same difference.

"Oh. Really. No. You don't say. Enlighten me," Bucky said, voice still flat and Clint knew that Bucky didn't believe him. He couldn't exactly blame that guy.

"Everything was good. We went to watch a movie and then we wanted to make dinner at Bruce's place, and then suddenly Bruce was being louder than usual and I dropped a plate. It's just... like I said, I overreacted."

Bucky sighed and started bandaging his hand before looking up, gaze not as murderous before but still not like usual.

"Louder than usual?"

"He's really quiet, Buck. One of those guys that doesn’t talk that much. I was probably just surprised. And now I'm cold and hungry and tired because I ruined a good thing that I wanted to keep. But that's obviously something I can forget now."

Bucky took his other hand and started to repeat the actions. As much as Clint hated to admit, he lost himself a bit in the familiarity of those touches.

"So. Bruce yelled at you and you panicked. That happens and I'm sure he will understand. It's not as if it wasn't coming. Triggers don't really care for nice things," Bucky said and yeah, he was right and now Clint felt even worse because he broke the one promise he made to Bucky.

It spoke a lot of the strength of their relationship that Bucky didn't even stop in his task when he looked up, exasperation on his face.

"Let me guess. Bruce doesn't know shit about Brenda."

Clint refused to answer, refused to even look at Bucky, because now Bucky was angry at him. He deserved it, sure it was just... he had wanted to have a normal relationship.

"Clint, he needs to know about her. He can't know what to avoid when he doesn't know the whole story. _That_ would ruin your good thing. Not the fact that your last relationship was abusive as fuck."

"I know," Clint interrupted Bucky harshly before the other man could add anything else. He _knew_ that Bucky was right. He still really didn't want to talk about it.

"I just wanted to have... something normal, you know? Not having him look at me with pity in his eyes or... I mean... if it would've been someone else then maybe..." Clint stuttered and Bucky took a deep breath, closing his eyes. This wasn't a new conversation and Clint was really thankful that Bucky still had it with him, no matter how often Clint's brain acted stupid.

"You mean if it would've been a man. Well, shit happens. Times are changing. If he can't accept that, then he better get out of your life anyway. But that still doesn't mean that he doesn't need to know, Clint."

Clint nodded and stood up as soon as the bandage had been wrapped around his other hand, too.

"Yeah, I'll do it. Don't worry, Buck. It's just... not a conversation I'd like to have and well... you know me. Thank you for patching me up, I will do that right..."

"You will sit your ass down again. It’s almost midnight and you have an important appointment tomorrow. Nick will kill you if you don't show up. You can always talk to him tomorrow when you're not cold and tired anymore."

"I may have left my things in his apartment."

Bucky sighed and stood up while shaking his head, gathering the scattered medical tools together.

"You can sleep here. There's leftover lasagna in the fridge. I'll fetch the blankets and a pillow."

Clint swallowed and sighed. And that‘s why he kind of loved Bucky.

~*~*~

He didn't want to be here.

Well, that wasn't true. He wanted to be inside Bruce's apartment, already finished with talking (if Bruce even let Clint say more than five words, that's it), but he wasn't.

And therefore, he _really_ didn't want to be here. Still, Clint took a deep breath and raised his hand, knocking on the door and then... waited. He couldn't turn around. His things were still in Bruce's apartment. Also, Bucky would kill him if Clint backed out now, and he really didn't want to die, thank you very much.

But then the door opened and Bruce was there, looking like he just got up, hair tousled, bags under his eyes, overall looking as if he didn't sleep well. So, maybe, just maybe Clint had a chance that Bruce wouldn't run for the hills, right?

"Listen, I really didn't want to freak out on you yesterday, it's just that my last relationship wasn't exactly good. It wasn't even good, it was horrible and everytime I did something she would yell at me or throw things and maybe even hit me, but it didn't matter because I always did something wrong so when the plate fell down I..." Clint started and let out a startled yelp which was only muffled by Bruce's hand when he clamped a hand on his mouth, looking confused.

"Good morning to you too, Clint. Do you want to come in, maybe?" Bruce asked and there it was, the humor that Clint loved so much -- but Bruce wasn't allowed to know that. Not yet, at least. That couldn't mean something bad, right?

And then his brain registered what Bruce just said and Clint looked down embarrassed and nodded. Only then the hand got removed from his mouth.

"Morning," he chuckled nervously and stepped into the flat when Bruce moved to the side. Bruce just shooks his head, a small smile on his face, and walked to the kitchen to start a new coffee pot. Clint took a deep breath and followed him.

The kitchen was clean. No evidence of the broken plate or of the ruined dinner. It looked... normal. Non-threatening. That was good.

And then there was coffee in front of him and it took everything he got not to pull Bruce down and kiss him. Because they had to talk. He was a responsible adult!

"Yeah, Tony it's me."

Huh. When did Bruce started to make the call?

"I'm gonna be late.... no, nothing major, just... things, yeah. See you later."

Clint sighed and set his mug down.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to keep you from work."

"You don't. Tony now knows that I'm late. The experiments can wait a bit longer. So, you wanna share with the class what exactly happened yesterday?" Bruce asked and sat down on the other chair, the small smile still on his face.

"Uhm. So... like I said, the last relationship wasn't... it wasn't a good one. I mean, no one who knows me would say I make good decisions on most days but Brenda... well, she wasn't a smart decision in the first place, you know? She got angry after a few months. For, like, everything. I couldn't do anything right and then the hitting started or she threw things at me. Bucky, he lives here too, patched me up on more nights than I can remember. She just followed in my father's footsteps, kind of, but it was horrible and took me years to even admit that something was wrong, longer to admit I needed help, you know?" Clint asked and carefully looked up, hoping to find something different than disgust or confusion in Bruce's face. The general consensus was still that men didn't get abused. He just hoped that Bruce didn't think that, too.

But Bruce just looked... worried. Clint sighed.

"Basically, when you yelled at me, I had a flashback, and when the plate broke it got even worse. I can't promise it won't happen again, no matter how long ago it was. I can understand if that's a bit too much for you because no one signs up for this."

Bruce nodded and then looked at his mug for a few terrible long minutes.

"I had a headache yesterday. I get those quite a lot. Paired with anger issues, it’s not really the best thing. I'm already looking for a therapist. Actually, it's one of the things I have to do to stay out of prison, so you don't have to worry about that. I learned to control them when I was in prison but it never hurts to have someone to talk about who knows what they're saying. So, if you'll have me, I don't care for your past. A few pointers what I should avoid would be nice, though."

Clint... just looked at Bruce. That sounded good. Way too good to be true.Then again, Bucky said not everything that sounded good had a catch. Sure, better safe than sorry, but he _wanted_ it to be true.

"I think I can do that," he whispered, throwing a shy smile in Bruce's direction. Bruce just nodded and stood up, collecting the mug from Clint.

"Good. Then I'm going to get dressed now and then we can go to Stark Industries. I'm sure Fury would be very unhappy if you're late for your interview."

And yes, maybe Bruce was right. Maybe Fury would be angry. But then, the alternative would be to stay here, with Bruce. Maybe cuddling. Maybe even in Bruce's bed and then napping some. He felt like shit.

The feeling didn't go away during their ride on the subway, but it got better. He still wanted his bed, though. When they met Steve, that had been the first thing he said to him, grinning stupidly when Steve laughed. At least until he saw the bandages on Clint.

"What happened?" the other man asked. Bruce took a sharp breath next to him. He would need to remember to tell Bruce that he and Steve were friends, and he needed to remember to ask what it was between Bruce and Steve. But not today.

"Nothing. Broke a plate because I'm clumsy. Then got more clumsy. You coming?" he explained before walking towards the lift.

He didn't notice the way Steve narrowed his eyes and looked at Bruce.

He did his best not to wince when Clint bolted out of the door from the lift as soon as they opened. After all, he _was_ late, if only by a few minutes. It still didn't stop him from wincing, because Steve was still in the lift.

Steve, who pressed the stop button as soon as the lift started moving. Steve, who pressed him against the wall in a trained movement that Bruce really didn't want to think about.

"What the hell, Banner?" Steve asked, voice tight, laced with anger. Bruce really wanted to tell himself that he couldn't understand the anger, but the issue was he could understand it. He would have come to the same conclusion.

"I know how that sounds, but it's like Clint said." Bruce said, looking straight at Steve because if he learned one thing that looking away was backing down.

_A boot that connected with ribs, a loud gasp._

_"I didn't..."_

_"What did I say?"_

_Eyes connecting until one pair looked down._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Yeah. Thought so. Clean up this mess. It wouldn't be there in the first place if you would be careful. Not my fault that you can't do it."_

"Yeah. Sure," Steve snorted and if the situation wouldn't be so absurd, Bruce would probably laugh, too.

"Believe it or not, your choice. I snapped at him, he dropped a plate and had a meltdown that I triggered. Great situation? No, but it happened. That's why I'm looking for a therapist."

Steve scoffs, but let go of Bruce.

"Yeah. Because that worked so good the last time," Steve said sarcastically and pressed the stop button again, causing the lift to start moving again.

"If you hurt him, they will never find enough of you to identify your body, Bruce."

He would have replied something if it hadn't been for the lift doors who opened up.

"Your stop," Steve said, smile on his face. No one who would glance at them would know and maybe it was better like that.

Bruce wasn't really surprised that Steve wasn't the only one who gave him a shovel talk. He was just surprised that Steve was the first one.

He had expected the seemingly non-threatening way Natasha explained to him how important Clint was to her. How much she would do for him. He hadn't really expected the way Fury just bluntly told him that he had no problem with shooting Bruce.

He hadn't met this Bucky yet, but he was pretty sure he would get a talk from him, too, as soon as they met.

"I know you know that you are my best friend and I would practically do everything for you and no matter what happens, I will also pay for it, but I don't think I can go through another court again, no matter how much truth lays with the charges," Tony said one day and that, that was probably the most terrifying thing. Bruce felt his stomach clench and a wave of nausea coming over him.

"I wouldn't expect it," Bruce answered honestly.

"Good. Because this time, it would mean life. And I think even _my_ lawyers wouldn't be able to prevent that. And I really don't wanna visit my best friend for the rest of my life in prison."

Bruce sighed and looked up. He wasn't surprised that Tony was still tinkering with whatever it was what had caught his interest at the moment. Tony was bad at these things.

"I know that. I know that _you_ know that I know that. We _both_ know that. I don't want to fuck this up. I will have nightmares for the rest of my life due to Emil. So, what was it you really wanted to talk about?"

Tony looks up now and grabbed a file from the table next to him.

"Funny how you mentioned him. You know about that experimental neurological thing that Strange researched? That can help people with a severe nerve damage and worked wonders with the volunteers?"

Bruce nodded. He had a feeling where this would lead to. Tony threw the file on Bruce's desk.

"Good. Danvers already knows that you will call him and tell him about this treatment. His _lawyers_ know that you will call him. They already informed him about the free treatment but, I quote, 'our client believes it when that asshole calls himself'. So you will call him."

Bruce sighed but nodded, taking the file. When he looked up, Tony was already gone and Bruce wasn't as surprised as he should've been.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Flashback of past domestic abuse

It wasn't that Clint didn't trust Bruce, because he did. After their fallout a few weeks ago they had tried to communicate as much as possible, and it worked. Clint had told Bruce everything about his past, about the things that _eventually, might be, could be_ triggering. He had been surprised by how long the list had become, but Bruce didn't seem to judge him. He just wrote everything down, and even though Clint didn't want to admit it, he felt a bit giddy seeing someone putting down information about him in an actual notebook so that those things wouldn’t be forgotten.

He got even more giddy when Bruce made sure to sleep on the side of the window, not barring the path from the bed to the door when Clint slept at Bruce's place.

So when Bruce's phone started to ring one evening, he hadn’t thought much of it. If Clint had learned one thing then it was that Tony Stark kept crazy schedules and that Bruce loved those schedules. He had tried to imagine them in college, but found out that he couldn't. Steve had told him a bit about Tony when they were younger and it just didn't fit the man he knew now. Neither did it fit the Bruce he knew now.

He hadn't thought much of it when Bruce didn't came back after the usual couple of minutes. As he kept hearing voices, he decided that it would be rude to call for Bruce to ask if he could bring Clint another coke.

But when he heard the small chuckle, the one Clint had to work really hard for on some days? No one could blame him for getting curious.

"No... it's just... listen, you don't need to decide right now. Would Thursday work for you? Around six PM? ... No that won't be a problem..."

Clint just stood there, not knowing if he should continue his way into the kitchen or just... disappear? But that would be silly. Why would he disappear? Just because Bruce talked to someone? Yeah, no need to do something stupid. Bruce wouldn't cheat on Clint, right? He probably was just going to meet an old friend of his, from the time before Bruce went to prison.

Except... Bruce never mentioned people from _before_. The only person Clint knew of were Tony and Steve. (And Steve probably because only because of Tony.) Maybe Natasha too, she sometimes did this thing where she implied something while neither confirming or denying something.

Bruce had laughed. Sure, he did that quite a lot, at least the chuckling, but then...

Clint stopped himself. It was probably nothing. Bruce was a grown man. He was allowed to have private phone calls, and Clint was just working himself up. Probably.

So he went to the kitchen and got his coke and then even went back into the living room, determined to ignore the still ongoing conversation, to ignore his brain telling him that this was it, that he would get replaced. He sat himself back down on the couch.

By the time Bruce came back almost ten minutes later? Clint was kind of calm. Sure, he was nervous and everything but then... he _was_ nervous.

"Everything okay? Sounded serious," Clint said while he peeled the label off his soda, refusing to look up.

"Yeah, just... work. We have that one new technology to reconnect the... uhm, for people with a nerve damage. Should help them to regain a bit of their ability to use the damaged nerves."

_See?!_ he wanted to scream at his brain because there it was, a logical explanation.

"Good. It's just... Brenda usually went to another room when someone called her. Made it easier to pretend that I didn't know, you know?" Clint said and gave Bruce a crooked smile.

"I'm just a bit paranoid and... God, I sound like a total asshole."

Bruce chuckled and sat down next to him.

"No, you don't. I won't cheat on you. I'm not stupid. I like what I have and see no reason to look for someone else," Bruce said and reached for his cup of tea that was slowly cooling off.

"I would probably tell you everything if you asked. So don't worry about it."

Clint knew he shouldn't. He knew that it was a sore topic for Bruce. He knew that it was stupid and that it didn't matter, but he couldn't deny that he just really wanted to know.

"Yeah? Tell me why you've been to prison, then?" he asked, keeping his voice light to play it off as a joke if needed.

Bruce face just closed up completely. The other man stared blankly at his cup before he looked at Clint, a small forced smile on his face they both knew how forced it looked. The smile didn't reach Bruce's eyes either.

"Like I said - probably."

Clint laughed in a manner that sounded fake even to his own ears, but well, it was just... everyone made such a fuss about Bruce and him and Steve had almost lost it when he learned that they were a thing now, so... no one could blame him for being curious, right?

"Doesn't matter anyway, but it was worth a try!" he said before he took a deep breath to gather his last few points of bravery left for the evening.

"Uhm, what I wanted to say... my lease is ending in two months. So I need to look for a new place in a couple of weeks."

The smile on Bruce's face was real now, reaching his eyes and making them twinkle.

"So?"

Asshole. God, he loved him. He would never admit that out loud (not for a few more weeks at least), but he did.

"Uhm, so, I wondered, if you would... you know... wanna move in with me? We could go looking for a different apartment or stay here or... yeah."

"I would love it if you moved in with me, Clint," Bruce said and then pressed a small kiss on Clint’s lips and maybe, just maybe this was heaven already because everything was nice and...

"I'm surprised that you have a real flat, with how much time you spend at Bucky's or Natasha's."

Clint felt as if someone had poured ice water over him. He _did_ spend an awful lot of time at their places. Maybe he didn’t spend enough time here with Bruce? Or maybe he just spent to much time with them? Those were his friends, Bucky his best one, but it was fair if Bruce felt as if Clint didn't spend enough time here, because he was Clint's boyfriend and of course Clint should spend more time with Bruce. God, Bruce would be...

" _Clint?_ "

Clint flinched back but nothing came. When he looked up, there was only Bruce, looking slightly concerned, still sitting on his part of the couch.

"Everything okay?" the other man asked, worry clear in his voice. Clint swallowed and looked around.

"Are you... I can spend less time with them, you know. I mean, I won't stop but I can..."

"Clint!"

Clint flinched again and looked up at Bruce who frowned at him.

"It was a joke. I don't care how often you're with them."

~*~*~

It wasn't even thirty minutes after Clint's small breakdown when they went to bed. Bruce didn't mind, because tomorrow would be stressful and today hadn't been easy either. Even though it was still early, at least for him, he found himself exhausted.

The bed dipped and the covers got lifted before Clint cuddled right up to Bruce, trying to imitate a koala as well as a human could.

"I know you said you don't care, but if you feel neglected..." Clint started again and Bruce shushed him, pressed a small kiss on his boyfriend's hair.

"If that happens, I tell you."

_"For god's sake, I don't care if you work longer, but when my boyfriends start spending more time at his friends, then I care!"_

_"C'mon, it was just one drink, it wasn't like I've been gone for hours, darling, it's just..."_

_A loud cracking noise resounded through the air, followed by a whimper and heavy breathing. A hand went to his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off of it._

_"Sure. And the next thing I know you come back smelling of sex."_

_"What?"_

_"Yeah, sure. Spare me the lies, will you. At least have the dignity to shower first, yeah?"_

"Promise?" Clint asked, voice slurring a bit.

"Sure, darling. Now try to sleep."


	9. Chapter 9

"Why do I put up with you again?" Bucky asked, voice barely audible over the clattering sound of the pans.

"Because you love me. Also, because you don't throw me out," Clint murmured, knowing Bucky could hear him. Bucky could probably hear him during a metal concert when they were about ten feet apart. He was creepy like that.

"I love no one. I am the dark. You keep the couch warm, that's why. Wanna explain again why you think Bruce is cheating? And why you _talk to me_ about that and not with Bruce?"

Clint sighed and closed his eyes, cuddling a bit closer to the couch cushions, still petting the sleeping cat on his lap. He knew that to most people, Bucky would sound like an asshole, and well, he was one, but he was still Clint's best friend. Even though it didn't sound like it, he did care. Otherwise Clint wouldn't be here. Bucky had no qualms about throwing people out of his apartment.

"It's... He said he wouldn't cheat. And asking him now, it would be like I'm clingy, wouldn't it? Or as if I don't trust him."

Bucky made a humming sound but didn't answer. They’d had this discussion already a few times over the past two weeks. Since that strange phone call.Then again, Bucky and Clint had those conversations before, back when he had been with Brenda.

"He's just... never there, you know? I mean, he's there as much as usual, but he's just somewhere else with his thoughts and a lot of phone calls are suddenly private. Not that I would spy on him or anything but... before that he never went out of the room for phone calls. We aren't even talking about all kinds of phone calls. Just certain ones. And he's working more."

"Aha. Maybe he's just working on some big project and it's really only work?"

And that, that's why he loved and hated Bucky, because Bucky was usually right, and even if he wasn't, he usually had good points.

"Yeah. Maybe," Clint said, slowly moving as to not wake Alpine. The way her head shot up to stare at him proved that he’d failed.

"Seriously, the cat is just like you."

"She's more cuddly."

"No. She's just more openly cuddly, Barnes. You're like a fucking octopus, don't even deny it."

A dish towel hit him in the head, but otherwise there was no other reaction from Bucky. Clint put Alpine down and sat up.

"I don't think it's work. Or, if so, it's not everything. Because usually, he would tell me about the projects he's working on, you know? I mean, not all, because let's stay real, he has several doctorates and I barely made the GED, but still... he would talk about them. I miss it."

"If you imply again that you're stupid I will throw a knife at you," Bucky said and Clint knew that it wasn't an empty threat.

"If you want to make sure it's work related, you could always ask Stark, you know?"

Clint blinked and turned around.

"Huh... I... really? You think so?"

Bucky snorted and took the pan from the stove, putting something delicious smelling on two plates.

"Yeah. I mean, technically he's his boss and isn't allowed to tell you, but it's Tony. Or you could ask Natasha, as far as I know she's known Bruce for a long time, too. Or Steve. Because for whatever reason Steve doesn't like him and if he doesn't know it, he will pester Tony until he tells Steve everything, or whatever he does when he wants information. I really don't wanna know. Grab your plate."

Clint stood up and took one of the plates with chicken and veggies from the counter.

"Remember the days we lived off fast food and the healthiest thing we would eat was a jam toast?" Clint asked and smiled slightly. Sometimes, he missed those days.

"Yeah. I hate jam."

"Yeah... I know. I think I'll ask Tony. Thank you."

And Clint had intended to ask Tony. He really wanted to. Yet when he remembered to a couple of days later, Tony just closed off as if Clint had just asked him something really personal and told him he would talk to Bruce about it. And Steve... well, Steve was overseas for a week long meeting. Which wasn't bad, not at all, but Steve refused to talk to him via phone about it and told Clint if he still wanted to know then they could talk about it when he came back. That was reasonable, but neither Tony nor Steve's reaction helped with the anxiety that slowly got bigger and bigger. Didn't mean he wanted it to win, because Bucky told him anxiety could kiss his ass and his therapist also told him that most things were worse in his imagination than they actually were.Usually, at least. . It shouldn't keep him from having good days, because today was a good day. A really good day. Even though Fury always pretended to hate his guts he got Clint a _permanent_ job with Stark Industries and that wasn't something he hadn’t had since... since Iowa. Sure, he loved short term contracts because they usually brought in a lot of money because they generally happened on short notice, but at the moment he wanted the security. Now he got it. So he skipped down to the labs where he knew Bruce worked, because it was lunch time and he knew that Bruce always forgot to eat lunch, and maybe they could have lunch together. If not, he maybe could still tell Bruce about his new job.

What Clint didn't expect was a half naked man sitting on a examination table, but that was okay. What he really didn't expect was the way the man looked at Bruce or the way Bruce smiled at the man. They looked... familiar with each other.

And there was it again. The small voice that told Clint that he shouldn't be surprised that Bruce was cheating. The other guy seemed pretty average, middle aged, dirty blonde hair. A few tattoos on one arm and a nose that looked as if it has been broken. Nothing special, but then, neither was Clint. The guy's other arm, which Clint couldn't really see, seemed to be unable to move correctly, and maybe that was that neuro-thingy Bruce had talked about? Still didn't explain the way the guards stared at Bruce and the other as if one of them would just explode in a few seconds. Still didn't explain the way...

"Excuse me, do you know if Emil Blonsky has already finished?"

Clint flinched because he hadn't heard the guy who walking down the corridor, and that man didn't looked like he would sneak up on anyone. He looked way too serious to do something like that, but maybe it was just that gigantic mustache that gave him that look.

"Uhm, I don't work for the labs, but if you mean the guy in the lab who's currently half naked and gets poked at with needles? Then no, not finished."

Clint didn't expected the already pissed look on the guys face to turn even more pissed.

"Why the hell is he alone with him? There should be another doctor with Blonsky. Not only Banner! That's not even allowed."

Clint took a deep breath. It didn't seemed like that Blonsky guy was a stranger to Bruce.

"Why? Doctor Banner is more than qualified to do any tests."

The mustache guy just looked at him and then shook his head, the dark look... didn't disappear, but it grew less intense.

"It's personal, son."

Clint nodded and looked back into the lab. The man, Blonsky, was pulling on his shirt, struggling a bit due to the lack of movement in his arm. Bruce said something to him, his lips forming a small smile and Clint kind of wanted to turn around and run away.

"You're in a relationship with him. With Banner."

It wasn't a question. Clint still nodded and braced himself for some kind of ridicule, but it never came. Of course not. This wasn't Iowa after all. Old habits die hard.

"It's not my place, but let me give you an advice, son - you want to stay away from that man as far as possible. Just walk away and pretend nothing ever happened."

"Is this... has it something to do with the reason Bruce has been to prison?"

The other guy looked a bit surprised, but then turned his gaze to the lab window again. Clint just catched the small, very small smile on Blonsky's face, gone before it was really there.

"It's not my story to tell. Like I said, it's something personal, but maybe Blonsky will tell it. If not, don't bother him. In two weeks there's an appointment without Banner, at least that's what I got told. You can ask him on that day. Same day and time."

Clint nodded and watched Blonsky walking out of the lab, watched Bruce already putting in some kind of data into the computer, watched the way Blonsky closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Clint sighed and decided to wait for a few more minutes before he would interrupt Bruce.  
Otherwise, Clint would probably lose his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late, I know. Today has been hectic.
> 
> Warning; Bruce throws a glass at the wall. Nothing hits Clint, but mentally, it's hard for him.

Laughing, he let himself get pulled into the flat by Clint, grinning when the other man let him go and did a small spin.

It had been a good day. Bruce had been able to get off work early. Clint could make his own hours, so when Bruce asked when the other man could go home, Clint almost ran out of the room, pulling him along, demanding that they go to the aquarium again and then eat somewhere fancy.

Not that they did that. They didn't eat fancy. Clint wasn't able to make a quiet conversation for some reason and Bruce just wasn't comfortable. So they'd just gone to see the fish, which Clint liked very much as he could take out his hearing aids and still not miss anything, while Bruce just liked to watch Clint look at the fish and spend time with him. They hadn't had enough time for each other the last few weeks since the tests with the neuro-serum started and it had begun to wear him down, and he knew that Clint didn't like it either.

Maybe that was the reason it almost physically hurt when the grin slipped off his face as soon as Bruce's phone started to ring. The way Clint's face closed off a little.

Bruce smiled apologetically at Clint who just shrugged and went into the living room, setting his way to expensive fish toy down on the coffee table.

"Banner," he said when picking up the call, hoping whoever it was heard how pissed off he was.

"Good evening, doctor. Glad you picked up."

Bruce closed his eyes and almost let out a sigh. Fury. And he didn't even sounded surprised that Bruce had picked up the phone at nine PM.

"What can I do for you? And if it's not urgent, it can kiss..." he started but wasn't really surprised when Fury interrupted him.

"Lab four is off limits for you tomorrow. Blonsky had issues with the latest shots and we can't reach his lawyers."

Bruce really, really wanted to throw his phone at the wall.

"What the hell? There are experiments running to make the shots more efficient. They need to be checked tomorrow, the analysis has to be done for some of them."

"Instruct one of the other doctors or an assistant, I don't care. Lab four is off limits. I was informed that you can have access again as soon as Blonsky is gone, but no time schedule."

"Yes, because it could take _fucking hours_!"

"It's not up for discussion, Banner. Lab four is closed. Good evening."

Before Bruce could say something else the line went dead. He took a few deep breaths, but he couldn't calm down. Those tests were important and not something a medical doctor could just _check_ , and neither could an assistant.

"What got you so riled up?"

Bruce closed his eyes for a few seconds, a bit embarrassed that he forgot that Clint was still there. He opened his eyes and forced himself to smile, knowing from Clint's look that it didn't really worked.

"It... doesn't matter, darling. Nothing important."

He didn't expected the way Clint just shot up and let out a gurgled laugh.

"Sure. Not important. Like everything else, right? Just fucking unimportant stuff that gets you riled up beyond hell. But hey, not important if my boyfriend just screamed at someone. Can't be that important," Clint said, his voice getting louder and louder before he turned around again.

"I mean it, Clint. It was just work."

Clint turned around and just looked at him.

"Seriously, Bruce, are you fucking kidding me?"

"What? No, I..."

" _Just work._ You know what's funny about that? Until a few weeks ago you told me about it. I get it that you never really gave me details because it's fucking classified and I'm still just some dumb carnie trash and I never understand even half of what you are saying, but it didn't matter because _I like listening to you!_ I love it when you talk to me about some science thing because it excites you, but for the past few weeks we haven't even been _talking_. You're just excluding me more and more from your life and you say it's not important? For god's sake, I don't ask you to teach me rocket science! I ask you to fucking talk to me because I want to be a part of my boyfriend’s life again and not be an outsider."

The last sentences were yelled and Bruce winced. Clint never yelled. He never got loud, not even when his hearing aids weren't in. Clint _hated it_ when people yelled, which was just proof that Clint was more than just a little bit upset. Bruce wanted to pretend he couldn't understand it. Wanted to pretend that Clint was being unreasonable, but he couldn't. Because how could you explain a situation like that?

"You're not an outsider, Clint. I never intended to make you feel like that. It's really just work related and if I had known that you liked it, I would have continued to talk about the projects. I just... have a habit of rambling about those things."

Clint sighed and nodded, still standing. Bruce started to go to the kitchenette to get a few glasses. He was thirsty and Clint probably too.

"It's just... I know you said you wouldn't, but it feels as if you've found someone who's more entertaining. I would get that, I'm not smart or anything, but I don't want to be excluded like now."

"You're not dumb, you're good at different things. And I'm not excluding you, which I just told you."

Bruce didn't know what it was but the fury was back in Clint's face.

"Sure. You're not excluding me. I just don't know anything about my boyfriend's friends. I don't know anything that happens at work, not even small anecdotes or funny things. I literally know almost _nothing_ of my boyfriends past, but on the other side I know that everyone I met, absolutely fucking everyone, said I should either be careful or just run. Why is it that people tell me to be careful? Why won't you fucking tell me?"

"Because I don't want to have my relationship destroyed by something that happened over five years ago! I can't stand the thought that everything I build up for myself in the past few months can be destroyed just like that, and I hate the thought of you leaving because of it because I'm starting to fall in love with you and I don't want you to go. Is it really that difficult to understand?"

He didn't realise that he had thrown one of the glasses against the wall until it broke into thousands of shards. He hadn't even realized that he had been yelling.

But he realized the way Clint flinched. The way his hands shot up just to stop halfway to his head. To protect it, Bruce realized. Clint wasn't even _near_ the wall the glass had been thrown against.

God, Bruce felt as if he had to puke.

"I... Good night.", Clint whispered. he sounded as if he really tried not to cry and Bruce tried to force himself to say something, anything, but there was nothing. He couldn't open his mouth, couldn't will his lips to move. He could just stare at the pile of shards until he heard the door close.

The fish plushie was still laying where Clint had left it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to a few unfortunate events in my life I won't be able to update this fic twice per week anymore (or, overall, post something new everyday), which means this fic will be updated weekly.

By the time Clint reached Bucky's apartment, he was shaking, and he felt bad. He didn't want to disturb Bucky again, but Natasha had a lot things to organize the last few weeks for her birthday party because, obviously, Natasha couldn't do anything halfway and there was going to be a big party. And now she's not even here and Clint had to bother Bucky again, but if he couldn't bother Bucky, then he couldn't bother anyone and... Clint really didn't want to be alone.

It took him almost ten minutes to find the courage to knock on the door, his arm shaking and feeling incredible heavy. He wanted to turn around, but then, he also wanted a hug. And maybe alcohol. Mostly a hug.

"What the hell?" Bucky murmured when he opened the door, headset still on, and Clint recoiled a bit. He had disturbed Bucky during his work.

"I'm... I wouldn't be here, I swear, but Natasha is on her vacation thing and please, don't be upset, but I just needed... I don't want to be alone."

Bucky stared at him before he raised a finger and clicked something on his headset while stepping back.

"Yeah, listen, whatever it is it has to wait until tomorrow or you call the IT again. I'm off for now," Bucky said and then tugged his headset off his had.

"That's next week. The vacation. If you want I can call her."

Clint just nods before he sat himself on the couch, pressing himself as far as he could into the corner, shivering a bit while he reached for the blanket. Natasha would be good now. Bucky too, but he was working and now he lost money because Clint couldn't care for himself and...

"Stop it, Clint. Why are you shivering?" Bucky asked, suddenly next to him, pulling the blanket tighter around Clint, a small smile on his face, before he tugged Clint into his arms.

"He said he's falling in love with me," Clint murmured after the shivering stopped a few minutes later.

"Huh. That's good, right?"

"He also threw a glass at the wall."

Bucky went rigid before relaxing a bit again, slowly freeing himself out of Clint's grasp. Clint couldn't suppress the wounded sound that came out of him, even though he knew that Bucky had already done a lot more than he was comfortable with.

"Hey, I'm not going. I just need to find a better position, okay? And then you tell me what happened, okay?"

"Can I have something warm, please?"

He knew that he was needy. He knew that Bucky just put up with him because Bucky always did. He knew that those thoughts probably weren't true. That today was a bad day now and that bad thoughts happen on bad days. Clint just wished he knew how he could stop them.

Suddenly, something hot was pressed into his hands and it smelled delicious. Even though it was probably just an instant mix, the other man still made the best hot chocolate. Clint had never tasted hot chocolate as good as the stuff Bucky made.

"Storytime?" Bucky asked, still so soft, sitting down next to Clint again and carefully putting an arm around him without touching too much. That was nice. Reminded Clint of easier days, when they were still both kids at the orphanage.

"We had a nice day. Bruce got off from work early. We had lunch and even went to the aquarium because Bruce knows how much I like it. And then we went to his apartment when he got a call and got really angry. Like, he yelled at the phone. I just wanted to know what it was about, you know? But he just said it wasn't important and then we suddenly yelled at each other and I asked why everyone tries to warn me off of him. Asked why he's been to prison. And he got angry and said that he didn't want something from half a decade to come back and destroy everything and that he was falling in love with me. That he's afraid I will break up with him."

Clint shivered and glanced at Bucky before setting the cup on the table. Then he looked back at Bucky.

"I don't want to break up, you believe me, right? I just... I just want to be included again. Just want to be a part of his life again," Clint whispered and swallowed down the lump in his throat, letting himself fall against the back of the couch.

"I want to pretend I'm good enough for a bit, you know? And I know that I'm clingy but I just want to know what's riling him up, just want to make it better, as stupid as that is."

Bucky sighed and stood up, laying a hand on Clint's shoulder.

"That's not stupid. And you're good enough. Education and upbringing isn't everything, don't beat yourself up."

And maybe Bucky was right. And maybe Clint hated Bucky a bit for always knowing what Clint _didn't_ say.

"I know. But, what should I do? I can't do that, Buck. I just want everything to be like in the beginning."

"Relationships don't work like that. If you wanna be with him, you should work it out with Bruce, if you want, but you also need to be aware of what you want. Not just only what Bruce wants or might want. You are way too important to ever make yourself inconsequential again," Bucky said while digging around in a drawer.

"For someone who doesn't do relationships, you're good at giving advice."

Bucky snorted and threw something on the couch next to him.

"I do them. It's just way more difficult for me. You need professional help. Someone who talks to you without a formed opinion. You want to stay here? I can make everything ready for you, but I'm going to work the whole night."

Clint thought about it. On the one hand, no matter what happened, Bucky would be here and Clint knew that Bucky would always be there, but he also didn't want to disturb the other man. Even though Bucky was good at theoretical advise, Clint knew that Natasha would look at the thing from a different side. The two of them could stay up the whole night and watch the shitty, trashy spanish soap operas that you needed to subscribe to but which neither Natasha nor Nick would ever admit that they paid for.

"No, thank you. You called Natasha, right?" Clint asked. At the same time there came a knock at the door. Bucky smiled while Clint snorted.

"Really good timing," Bucky murmured while walking to the door. Before he opened it, he turned around to Clint, his expression serious.

"If you want to work it out with Bruce, don't meet him until you’ve sorted a few things out for yourself. Or don't meet him alone until you can do that, okay?"

Clint nodded but Bucky had already turned his back on Clint and opened the door, revealing Natasha, who wore a fluffy pink bathrobe and bat slippers.

"I heard we’re watching that horrible series Nick subscribed to? Because Nick is working and he wants to know if Rosalita will find out that Hernando is cheating on her."

Clint smiled slightly and stood up. He loved his friends.


	12. Chapter 12

His head hurt.

Bruce knew he deserved it and a lot more. It still hurt like hell, and he really just wanted to go back home and crawl back under the covers. Not that he would be able to sleep, no. He hadn't done so the last night, either. But if he was in bed, he could at least pretend that he would be able to get a few hours of sleep. He just hoped he hadn't ruined everything between Clint and him, hadn't ruined their relationship. God, he just hoped that Clint would at least give him the chance to apologize. He really didn't want to loose the other man. Not over something as stupid as work. Or...

"Morning. You look like shit. Did you sleep at all?"

Bruce just looked up at his friend and asked himself if it would be worth it to just shoot Tony. Or himself. At least then the headaches would be gone. But the statistics showed that a headshot wasn't really a guarantee for dying, and Bruce really didn't want to go back to prison, so he decided against any violence. Probably the smarter decision in the long run.

"Do I look like it, Tony?" Bruce sighed and looked back at his notebook, pretending that the numbers and diagrams made any sense. They didn't. and as he wasn't in his usual lab, he couldn't look up a few things because they were still in the notebook that he left in lab four and... today was not a good day. Not at all.

"No. And I know for a fact that you don't really care about the fact that you have to work in another lab because you got as many doctorates as me, and I know that I wouldn't make as many mistakes as you did, and I didn't even study physics for a doctorate. So, what's bothering you?"

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes, really wishing he could take another pill, but as it wasn't even eleven am and he already took three... yeah... maybe later.

"Clint and I had a fight."

"Huh."

Bruce didn't liked that tone. But then, who was he to judge?

"I got a call yesterday from Fury and maybe yelled at him. Clint asked me what was wrong and I told him everything was fine."

"You yelled. It wasn't fine, Brucie-Bear," Tony said, still looking at Bruce and, hell, didn't the other man have something better to do.

"No. It wasn't. And then we got into a fight and I threw a glass at the wall. Don't know where he went, but Natasha hit me this morning with the newspaper, so I think he stayed at hers."

Tony snorted and shook his head.

"Well... at least it was only the newspaper. Could've been worse."

And even though he didn't want to, Bruce had to chuckle. Yes, it could have been worse. None of them knew what she had done for the military, but then again they probably didn't really wanted to know. He just knew from Steve that Natasha _accidentally_ broke someone’s legs when that someone was mean to Steve. That's not something you just can do.

"Thought about therapy?"

Bruce sighed and nodded, looking back at Tony.

"Yes, but no matter how big New York is, there aren't enough shrinks. I'm on seven waiting lists and only God knows how long it will be before I get an appointment."

Tony just raised an eyebrow and dug out a card out of his jeans.

"Well, Clint was right to walk away from you and out of that situation. You should apologize and work on stuff. That's my therapist. They will have time for you within the next week at the latest, and my assistant is going to send you the number of a really good couple therapist. At least I heard she's good."

"Tony, I can't take..."

"Shush."

Bruce blinked and stared at his friend, slightly confused. He was used to getting interrupted or talked over because that was just how Tony worked. The other man had never actually shushed him. Bruce couldn't remember even one occasion where Tony had shushed _anyone_.

"Okay?"

"No, not okay," Tony said and looked at Bruce with a strange look in his eyes.

"You have to apologize properly. You have to work on your fucking temper because as far as I know Clint has been through hell. More than once. Sure, it has been years, no matter which hell we're talking about, but that guy is still broken as fuck. Healing is a long process and you're not helping. Not even remotely. So you either work on yourself or you stop whatever you're doing with Clint because I can still remember when he and Bucky came to New York, afraid of his own fucking shadow," Tony said angrily, still looking at Bruce.

"And that's the reason you make that fucking appointment with that therapist and then with the couple therapist if Clint's wants to work it out. Because no matter what happens, we both know you will feel better when you get back on track."

Bruce swallowed and pocketed the card, nodding. Tony was right. No matter what happened, Bruce would be thankful that he went to therapy. Not the next week or month, but eventually. It had been the same in prison. He hated therapy when he started, but it was the best thing that could‘ve happened to him.

"I will. I'm calling them on my lunch break. Now, your turn. You're usually not one for meaningful words. Any reason for that generous mood?"

He knew that it was a low blow. He knew that when Tony winced slightly, but he also knew that that was just how they worked. They had worked like that since they met at fourteen in college. Worked like that for the last twenty years.

Never change a working system. That was their motto after all. Not the healthiest one, both Bruce and Tony had agreed on that a long time ago, but it worked.

Tony just raised his eyebrow, not really saying anything, but there was this happy look on his face as always when he and Steve had done something romantic. Or, old-fashioned, as Tony would put it and then get that excited and incredulous look.

"So, we may have our anniversary in a few days, and Steve may or not may have asked if I was up for a vacation. Which I never am, because, let‘s be honest here, Pepper would kill me if I would even think about going on a vacation without telling her at least six weeks in advance since she‘s still managing my schedule. Which I told Steve and then he said, I quote ‚Well, fuck it. We can go to the Bahamas if you like. Actually, I already made reservations.’ So, that not only means that Steve cursed, _for me_ , but he actually already asked Pepper when he‘s also very afraid of her. So we‘re going on this vacation and I fully intend to ask him to marry me. This time, I won‘t chicken out!“

Bruce chuckled and smiled at Tony, still remembering the first three times Tony said that, even _before_ Bruce got arrested, and then twice while Bruce was in prison. He hoped this time, Tony could do it.

"That's good. I'm happy for you."

Tony raised his hand and opened his mouth, but got interrupted by the door swinging open, revealing Steve who looked like he couldn't decide if he should be happy, angry, disappointed or just completely done.

Probably a bit of all of them.

"You know that Clint called me when I was in Scotland, asking me what, I quote, 'All this fuss about you is about, because you wouldn't tell him anything', right? And that Natasha just called me all threatening because _Clint_ isn't feeling good, right?" he asked and then looked at Tony, a small smile on his face, pressing a chaste kiss to his boyfriend‘s lips.

Bruce frowned. Clint not feeling good wasn't... good to hear. He could understand it. It still hurt to think that Bruce himself was the reason for that.

"No, I didn't know. Tony just gave me the number of his therapist, so I'm gonna work through a few things and then I'm gonna talk to him. Maybe have a few sessions with a couple therapist if he's willing to do that. And overall, it's not your business."

Steve smiled at him, looking a bit like a feral animal that was trying to play nice.

"It's my business if my sister starts treating me like shit because you can't keep yourself in check."

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the impulse to just break Steve's nose. Tony wouldn't like it. He could lose his job because of it. Plus, he was sure that someone had to notify Danvers of that, and that's something he really wanted to avoid. Speaking of Danvers, he turned to Tony, who had already stood up but otherwise hadn't moved, probably to make sure no physical fights were happening.

"I need to leave a bit early, I still have an appointment with Danvers. Can't really do anything anyway without the notes left in lab four," Bruce said, deliberately ignoring Steve. Tony looked a bit surprised, but nodded.

"Yeah. Sure. Steve and I would've gone to lunch now, anyways. Don't forget to call that therapist, okay?"

Bruce shook his head before turning back to his notebook, noting down the few results he got, hoping that someone remembered to check the tests in lab four and note down the results. He really didn't want to redo them.

He didn't hear the lab door opening and closing again. Only when his mobile alarm went off did he looked up again, clearing the space he worked on before walking outside, his phone clutched in hand.

Only when he was outside he pressed his speed dial, hoping Clint would take the call. He wasn't surprised when he only reached the mailbox.

"Uhm... hey, Clint. It's me. Bruce. But then, you see that. I just wanted to ask if we could talk. I wanted to apologize to you and... over the phone is way too impersonal. I acted like an ass and I didn't to hurt you. Or want to hurt you, for that matter. So, yeah, it would be great if we could talk. After this call I'm gonna call the therapist Tony referred me to, and I don't know how but he said they can give me an appointment within the next week. That's Tony for you, and I'm rambling again, sorry. I just wanted to ask if you would be willing to talk. If not, that's okay, the decision is up to you."

Bruce hung up and let out a sigh before he started walking down the street, into the direction where Danver’s office was, already dialing the number Tony had given him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; Talk about past abuse, domestic violence and injuries.

Clint was nervous. He couldn't remember when he ever had been that nervous. Maybe the day Bucky showed up at his apartment, declaring that they were going to move to New York _right now_. Then again, he hadn't really been nervous. Afraid. Yes. That was more like it. But not really nervous, because Bucky was there and Bucky made everything okay.

Yet, sitting here, in an office, waiting to get called in by a shrink (therapist, his brain supplied. The guy probably wouldn't appreciate it if Clint called him a shrink). He had been to sh... therapists before. It wasn't his first rodeo. Most didn't listen though, as they were a bit overwhelmed by him, so Clint just stopped. But Bucky said the guy was good, and Natasha had tried to set Bucky up with that guy, so he had to be really good for Bucky to even _consider_ referring someone to him.

When the door opened and a black man with a kind face and a small gap between his teeth smiled at him? Yeah, Clint would freely admit that he hadn't expected that.

"You're Clint? The guy James and Natasha talked about?"

Clint stopped midway in his task of standing up and blinked at the guy.

"Jame... wait, Natasha? No, no. The James-thing. That's more important," Clint said and straightened, ignored the way his back protested because he had slept on his couch for the last few days . It was a comfy couch, but definitely not meant for sleeping on it for more than one or two nights.

"Well, he said only friends call him Bucky. So as long as he doesn't offer it, I'm not gonna to do it. I'm Sam," the guy said and offered his hand, which Clint shook, probably way too hard like he always did. The guy, Sam, didn't even make a face.

"I'm nervous," Clint blurted out and really wanted to slap himself. Sam just chuckled and pointed offhandedly to a comfy looking armchair.

"Happens. I get that quite a lot. Natasha said you visited therapists before?"

"Yeah, but they were your usual shrinks, I think, not really helpful," Clint said before his brain caught up, wincing a bit.

"I meant... not that I think you're the typical shrink or anything it's just... I didn't have that many positive encounters with them, you know?"

Sam just shrugged and sat in the armchair opposite of Clint.

"That's fair. If it makes you feel better, I wasn't always one. Okay, before that I've been a soldier and I'm not sure if that is that much better."

Clint laughed. It was a strange sound, way too loud for his ears because he hadn't had his aids in the last few days and he had just turned them on when he got to Sam's office so... it just sounded strange.

"Still doesn't explain why Natasha told you about me."

Sam cracked a smile, still only sitting there. No notepad, no laptop, no recorder. As if they just... talked.

"Because she thought James wouldn't. So, wanna tell me why you got Natasha _and_ James worried? I know both and they aren't exactly the touchy feely kind of people. If you don't wanna share that's fine, too. It's your time and no matter what you choose, if anyone asks me, they can stick it."

And Clint... well, he wasn't surprised per sé, because those were the rules, but there were always people willing to ignore the rules, especially shrinks. Or at least those he had met. Sam did seem to mean what he said - and that was good. Clint sighed and grabbed his hair, not really sure where to start.

"So, uhm... if it gets a bit confusing, just chime in," he said and threw a crooked smile at Sam, who just nodded, still no notepad or anything in hand. Clint nodded and took a deep breath.

"Okay. So, I didn't have a loving family, not exactly. My father was a violent ass, even more so when he was drunk. Mom just... well, did what people usually do in that situation, she existed. When they died, my brother and I went to an orphanage, but when they started to talk about separating us to give us a new chance, we ran away. We even joined a fucking circus."

Clint looked up at Sam, afraid that he would see judgement but there was... just amusement and a bit surprise. Well, maybe he was the first one in this armchair who had run away to the circus, who knew. Clint looked down at his hands again.

"Everything seemed good for a while, at least until I learned that my brother and two others were scamming the owner. To prevent that I told him and they just ditched me somewhere in L.A. with a knife wound. They wanted it to look like a gang thing, you know? Well, an older man found me, called the ambulance. The hospital called the cops and so on, and the next I knew was that I was back in Iowa, in another orphanage for difficult kids and kids with disabilities. Met Bucky there. We became friends and then eventually moved in together. At least until I met a guy, Todd. He was nice and I moved in with him after a bit, but then he got violent. Drunk quite a lot, too, so I left pretty early on because I didn't want to have something to do with someone who was so like my father."

Sam nodded and shot him a brief smile. Only after a few seconds, when it became clear that Clint tried to sort himself out, he started to speak. Clint liked him.

"I never met people who really ran away and joined the circus. Where I grew up it was a running gag, but it was really smart of you to leave that guy."

Clint laughed, the sound bitter to his own ears.

"Yeah. Wasn't really smart the next time. A few months after that I met Brenda. She was lovely, brown hair, big eyes, big smile, talked about a mile a minute and made the funniest faces. I had just started a job as a security clerk and she was the secretary. Probably still is. Well, it started small. She wanted to know when I met other people so she could align our plans. Then when I had to cancel, she got angry over the smallest things, threw plates at me, told me it was my fault and other things. I... I know she cheated. She didn't even really try to keep it secret, just said that she needed something I'm obviously not able to give to her. She hit me."

Clint's voice cracked at the end and for the first time he realized that a few tears were running down his face. Hastily, he wiped them away with his sleeve, a bit confused when a package of tissues appeared in front of him.

"Sounds like a grade A bitch," Sam said, and Clint had to laugh.

"Yeah. She could be. That... that was probably one of the problems. She _could be_ , she wasn't one all the time. We had nice moments together too, moments I wouldn't want to miss. And, we lived in Iowa. It's not exactly a thing there to just go to the police and say 'Hey, my woman is hitting me', because no one would've thought it. So I didn't, either. Because she always had a reason, you know? It was just so... logical at the moment. It took me almost a year before I went to Bucky, and only because I had a cut on a place I couldn't really see and he just... flipped. When he did that I tried to cower and then he got awfully quiet. Didn't say anything while he treated the cut. He tried, don't think he didn't, but I didn't listen, no matter how bad it got."

A small sigh escaped him and Clint closed his eyes. His past was usually not something he really talked about. Bruce had been the first one for years after his last attempt at therapy.

"I don't think that. I'm sure he did everything he could and I'm glad you had someone you could go to. May I ask what happened? I mean, you're here, which means you somehow got away."

Clint chuckled and tugged at his hair.

"It wasn't really me who got me away. It was... it became really bad. Usually, Brenda was okay with Bucky. Then I asked her to marry me and she tried to get my time with Bucky, too, and when I cancelled the fourth time on him? I thought I lost him. He didn't call back or answered my messages. A few days later, when he knew Brenda was working, he knocked on my door and gave me fifteen minutes to pack everything I needed, telling me he found a job in New York and an apartment that he couldn't afford on his own. Later he told me that he called my company pretending to be HR to see if my free days had stayed the same because he couldn't reach me and they told him I called in sick. So, that's where we are now. Don't know what happened to Brenda. Bucky threw everything electronical I owned at that time into a pond. And then... I found a job. An apartment. Stayed away from relationships until I met Bruce. He was... different. Nice. Quiet. Now it seems as if history repeats itself, but at the same time it doesn't, and I don't even know why I'm here. Because Bruce tries to get into therapy again, he tries to stay calm, but he can't. I don't know why he's been to prison and he won't tell, and at this point I'm afraid he murdered someone. But no one tells me a fucking thing, they just say cryptic things. And I'm... I just don't know anymore."

"You're here because people around you know you. They know your history, either completely or parts of it. I don't know you, don't know Bruce or anything really. I just know that you don't really know what to do. That's okay, because that's what I'm here for," Sam said, shooting him another warm smile.

"Which brings me to my most important question - what do you want? How do you feel about this situation? Because no one else can know that. Neither James nor Natasha nor anyone else. Only you."

It would've been great if Clint had known the answer to that. Or, no, he had an answer, but it wasn't really one because it wasn't helpful. Probably. So he just shrugged.

"I want to be with Bruce. He's funny. I feel safe, at least most times. I think I love him, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid that it will turn out like the last time. I'm afraid that one day the glass won't hit the wall. I'm afraid that I don't know if I would stand up and leave again. I'm afraid to move in with him and then everything will repeat itself. I'm afraid this time Bucky won't knock on my door."

Sam nodded and then just looked into nothing, obviously thinking about his reply. Clint knew, no matter what Sam said, he would listen. And no matter what it would be, Clint already kind of knew what he wanted to do. He just didn't know if that would be the best thing. Probably not. Bucky would probably slap him across the head and Clint would deserve it.

Then Sam looked at him and leaned forward a little, resting his arms on his knees.

"I think, that maybe both of you should decide on a compromise, because, yes, you can't know how it turns out and it's very good that you try to avoid a situation like you had with Brenda. Or Todd. Or anyone else that hurt you. It's important to break through that cycle, but I also think that it's important that you give Bruce the chance to prove that he wants to change himself, because that's a difficult journey, too., but without putting yourself on line," Sam said and then paused again before continuing.

"You should definitely wait with moving in together. If Bruce is looking for a therapist, maybe until after he’s had his first sessions. I can refer you to a few couple therapists, if you want. Or you can look for some yourself, but that's a step I would advise you to take, too. It's always good to have a third, objective party trying to help. Friends are great, but they usually take a side, no matter if they want to or not, and you need to be open about what you need. Sure, he needs time, everything was new when he just came out of prison, it's difficult, but if he can't do it without putting you on line, without endangering yourself, then he's not ready for a relationship overall. That doesn't mean he never will be. Or that you both have to break it off for good. It could be that it just takes a bit more time for both of you, but it could also be that you're both looking for something the other can't provide for whatever reason."

Clint blinked. That was surprisingly honest, and accurate. Because Sam was right, he couldn't put himself in danger. Not again. Not like that. But it would be unfair to just... leave without talking. Because Bruce _wasn't Brenda_. And maybe he’d already found a therapist, who knew? And maybe it was just like Sam said, maybe it needed a bit more time than both of them had thought. That could... yeah. 

He nodded.

"Thank you," he murmured and stood up, his head swimming. Sam must have stood up too, because he was walking to the desk and pulled something out, giving it to Clint.

"That's a list of couple therapists I recommend. Some of them have a long waiting list. Some don't. If you choose someone else, that's legit. You have to do what works best for you and not everyone likes the same therapists, and I definitely don't know all the therapists in whole New York. That would be insane."

Clint laughed and took out his wallet.

"Thanks. Really. What do I owe you."

"Nothing. Maybe tell James that I don't fucking care that he's ace, would you? Maybe if he hears it from you, he will agree to a date without the excuse of 'I won't be what you want, believe me.'"

Clint grinned and put his wallet away again, nodding.

"That's sounds like Bucky, yeah. I'll tell him. He won't like it, but I’ll tell him. Just don't expect him to... I don't know. Be nice or something."

This time it was Sam's turn to laugh.

"I don't think anyone could ever expect that. Feel better now?"

"Yeah. I actually do. Have a nice day, Sam."

Sam just gave a two-finger salute. And when Clint went down and was outside of the building? He was surprised to find out that it hadn't been a lie. He really felt better. Not great, but better. That was better than nothing, right? He fished for his mobile, knowing that if he didn't make the call now, he wouldn't make it at all.

He wasn't surprised it went to voice mail. Bruce was busy. He was always busy. The clock at the subway told him it was barely 11 a.m.

"Hey Bruce. I... thought about it. About us. Talked with someone. Not Bucky or Natasha. Well, with them, too, but I meant with someone else. Can we talk? Maybe? If you're still up for it? I'm free on Saturday, Monday and Tuesday. I don't care where, as long as I can order coffee there. I just... I wanted you to know that I miss you. I don't know what will come out of it but I wanted you to know that. The other days I'm working different shifts with someone new, so it would be good if you could just drop me a message because I'm not sure when I'm going to be awake or what I’m doing at that moment, so... yeah. I hope to hear back from you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Condescending in a flashback!

It was loud. Way too loud. Bruce tried to disappear into the cushions from the bank he was sitting on, tried to ignore the chattering around him, tried to ignore the sounds. The smells. It didn't work. Everything was just... too much.

He didn't know why he asked Clint to meet him at this place. _He hated_ coffee shops, but Clint loved them and he’d said he wanted to meet somewhere where he could get coffee (which Bruce could understand. Changing shifts aren't any fun.).

A kid behind him screamed and he flinched. God, he hated the noise, but at least no one would be able to hear what they were going to be talking about.

And then there was Clint, sitting down on the other side of the table, a cup of coffee in the one hand and pushing another cup at him with fresh tea, a smile on his face. God, how had Bruce missed that smile.

"Hey," he said, trying to smile, trying not to show how much he hated this place, because it wasn't about him. It was about Clint.

"Hey. Sorry to have kept you waiting. How you've been?"

"Good? No, not good. But... well. Could've been worse, I presume."

Clint smiled and nodded; the smile barely reaching his eyes.

"Yeah. I feel that."

"You talked with someone?"

And God, Bruce didn't want an answer to that. He didn't even know why. Because _of course_ Clint had talked to someone. He had said so in his message. Some trauma specialist Bucky had referred him to, but Bruce didn't want to know what that guy had told Clint, because it could be everything and he was already nervous enough, and...

"Yeah. Natasha knows I'm here. She was less likely to kill me, and God, that's not a sentence I ever expected to say."

Bruce couldn't help himself, he laughed. Clint looked so disbelieving and yeah, he was right, it wasn't really a sentence that fit Natasha, but between Natasha and Bucky? Yeah, it was more likely that Bucky would've lost his mind.

Even Clint's eyes twinkled a bit and, well, whatever happened today, it couldn't be worse than whatever Bruce's brain came up with.

"Okay. It's.... what did you want to talk about?"

Clint took a sip of his coffee before he took out a list, smiling almost shyly.

"I didn't want to forget anything," he explained, and Bruce nodded. Clint didn't open the list so it was probably only to make him feel more secure. A backup plan.

"Okay. I thought about it, and think it wouldn't be smart to move in together. At least not now. Maybe later but... not now. I need to work on some stuff. _You_ need to work on some stuff, on a lot of stuff if my gut feeling is correct."

Bruce snorted and nodded.

"Yeah. That's one way to put it. I agree with the living situation, it wouldn't be wise at the moment. And I finally got an appointment, just like Tony said. On Thursday, right after my visit to Danvers. If you're willing, he also forwarded a couple therapist."

Clint laughed and took another sip of his coffee.

"Yeah. Sam, the therapist, gave me a list too. But I don't think we need it. Not at the moment. Let's see how this will play out first, okay?"

"How... you want to try? After... everything?"

Clint sighed and nodded, then shrugged before he nodded again, closing his eyes for a short second.

"Yes. I miss you. I think I'm falling in love too. So, yes, I want to try again. Because I know you're trying, but I have a few conditions."

Bruce nodded. He almost opened his mouth to agree on _everything_ but his brain decided that his mouth wasn't allowed to work, which was probably a smart decision.Then agin, there wasn't much he wouldn't do or at least try to get another shot at this.

"Shoot."

Clint huffed and drained his cup.

"I want to be included in your life. I don't need to know everything that happens, and to be honest, I probably won't even really care about the way some... some cells do things. But I like it when you tell me about it because it's important to you. I'd like to know what's going on in your brain. I'd like to see you more often than once every few days for a few minutes in the cafeteria, or at least have a bit more contact with you. I'm... I love contact, no matter if it's a message or a hug. I just need it so that I don't think I'm just... not important to you, because I believe you when you say I am. I want to know about your past. Not every little thing, but I'd like to know how you met Tony, what shenanigans you were up to. Maybe a bit about your family, if you ever feel up about it. However, I absolutely need to know why you've been to prison. I can't stand it that everyone around me seems to know _everything_ and tries to decide what's best for me _when I don't even have all the facts_. I just... I want a relationship without bumping into a secret every day."

That sounded... reasonable, Bruce thought. Nothing he couldn't provide, probably. He still thought about it for a few minutes, because there were just some things that would scare Clint off. There were things he just wasn't really comfortable with.

_Tears trailing down cheeks, getting wiped away before someone shrugged._

_"You don't tell anything anymore. I get it, your work is important, just like mine. I just miss it."_

_"I know. But we talked about it. I just don't have the time to explain everything twice to you. We both know that it wouldn't make any sense. After this project, I'm going to have a bit more time for you again, I promise."_

_A smile that didn't really show if it was a promise or a threat._

"I... try. I can definitely try with my everyday life. I tend to forget that, even though people may not understand that it doesn't mean that they're not interested. If I forget it more often than not, please remind me, but I try to remember it myself. About my past and the reason I've been to prison, that's more difficult for me. Those are things I'm going to talk with the therapist and to be honest, I want to have it sorted out first, or at least a good chunk of it because I doubt I ever get it sorted out completely."

And God, he hoped that it was okay. That Clint would agree to that. Because he really needed to sort it out first, needed to have a strategy for how to explain Clint everything.

Clint nodded.

"Fair, especially since I'm doing the same at the moment with my therapist. I try to be more specific about my past, because I don't want it to end in such a mess again. But _never_ ever throw something again. Not at me or the wall. Nothing. And... and I know you need to sort it out first, but I'm probably getting fed up someday with waiting if nothing comes. I don't want to wake up one day and find that I'm in a relationship with a stranger, not being able to find common ground between us."

Even though it wasn't funny, not even remotely, Bruce had to laugh. Clint just stared at him and he could understand that.

"I'm sorry," he chuckled and threw a smile in Clint's direction.

"It's just... it's not funny, no. Not directly. When I was little, my mom told me one day that she often felt like I was the only person she knew, because sometimes she couldn't recognize herself or my father anymore."

Clint smiled.

"That's... okay, I see how that could cause laughing. Did she ever recognized herself again? Or your father?"

Bruc swallowed and shrugged.

"Don't know. If she did, she didn't really have the time to appreciate it. My father killed her three weeks later."

And yes, Clint had said he wanted to know about Bruce's past, but Bruce knew that this off-hand comment could be a bit much. He winced when Clint's smile just... disappeared. Then, the other man nodded, seemingly lost in thoughts.

"Yeah. My father killed my mother during a car ride. Was drunk as fuck, wrapped the car around a tree or something," Clint murmured and then shook his head, the smile back in place even if it was smaller than before.

"Anyway, I think you’ve already heard that Steve and Tony have their anniversary coming up soon? They're going bowling on Friday and have invited like… everyone. You wanna come?"

No, Bruce thought, because there would be people and it would be loud, and Steve would be there. Even though Clint made all that a lot better, it didn't meant that Bruce would like it. But Tony would be there, too, and he actually really wanted to meet Bucky, who was probably going to be there, too.

"Yeah, that sounds nice.", Bruce said instead of screaming and running away, surprising himself.

The grin on Clint's face was totally worth it.


	15. Chapter 15

He had been right. He hated it. The music was a tad too loud, a tad too much bass to be comfortable. They all had to talk a bit louder than absolutely necessary, and there was alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

But the way Clint laughed and smiled? The way he competed with Bucky because both of their aims were ridiculously good? That made it a bit better. The way Tony grinned at Steve, carefree, no trace of the worry and exhaustion Bruce had to see all those years? It was heartwarming.

What made it even better was that he wasn't the only one who was a bit of an outsider. Bucky came with someone called Sam, Clint's therapist as Clint had put it, but what was far more concerning was the way Natasha yelled excitedly, causing everyone else to flinch and Bucky to flip her off.

"Seriously, man, if I would have ever suspected that they were that crazy? I wouldn't even have _entertained the thought_ of asking James for a date. Like, ever," Sam said, almost whispering.

Bruce laughed and nodded.

"Yeah. They're one crazy bunch," he said, still happy that at least most of those people liked him. At least until Bucky suddenly appeared in front of him, looking almost bored.

Almost.

"Bring us more drinks, Sam?" Bucky asked, sounding as bored as he looked, almost rude. Sam didn't seem to mind, he just walked away without saying anything.Then again, it was absolutely clear that Bucky wanted to talk to Bruce, alone, and God, wasn't that a situation Bruce had wanted to avoid? Yet, he wasn't surprised about it happening, either.

"Can I help you?" Bruce asked, careful to not let his irritation creep into his voice. That wouldn't end well. Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying him before he shrugged.

"Dunno. Is Clint going to turn up more often in the middle of the night, shaking like a leaf?"

"No, not if I can help it."

God, he hoped that would turn out to be true. Bruce really did. The appointment went well, but he knew there was so much more to it than just one visit. Bucky made a humming sound, head still tilted. He looked a little like a dog shortly before it decided to attack.

"Good enough for now. The first time was already enough for a lifetime, the times after that, hell. I don't need to have those years repeating themselves. I'm not too keen on changing locations again."

Without waiting for an answer, Bucky turned around, just in time for his own turn to bowl. Clint looked up from his conversation with Steve, shooting him a bright smile before looking at Bucky and back to Bruce.

Bruce just shook his head and sat down on the resting bench next to Tony, and stole a nacho.

~*~*~

Clint wasn't really surprised when Steve stopped him when he wanted to fetch new drinks, because he’d probably sounded really stressed the last time they talked, after all. God, how should he explain that everything was okay, at least for now? That he’d bothered Steve for nothing? Clint swallowed, feeling his breathing speed up.

"Hey. You still wanted to talk about... you know, Bruce?" Steve asked, a small smile on his face, blocking Clint's view on Bruce. Probably by accident. Or not. People thought that Steve was naive, but he wasn't. He was just good at pretending to be.

"No!" Clint squeaked and closed his eyes, embarrassed.

"I meant, no, thank you. At least not at the moment. He had his first session with his own therapist and I'm still meeting Sam and... at the moment it looks good, and I don't want to jinx it with anything, you know?"

Although he hadn't expected it, Steve just nodded. He didn't even look disappointed! Clint made a mental note to talk to Sam about his self confidence. Or the lack thereof.

"Sure. But, if you ever need someone to talk or to rant to about anything, it's not often that I get stuck in another country or on another continent. If that isn't the case, I'll be happy to listen to you."

Clint laughed.

"You know, don't take it the wrong way, but I don't think you could be very objective. I think I prefer Sam," Clint chuckled and then froze slightly, but Steve just laughed.

"Probably, but sometimes, that's not what you want, right? I mean, if Natasha would be objective everytime Tony and I were fighting about something, I would've gone crazy a long time ago."

Clint just looked at Steve, feigning an absolute bland look.

"Wait, you mean you're not?"


	16. Chapter 16

He wasn't sure what he expected when Tony dashed into the lab two days later, but it certainly wasn't how the other man just jumped onto a lab table and sat himself on it, looking at Bruce expectantly without saying a word.

When Tony's attention didn't waver after three minutes, Bruce looked up, an amused smile on his face, raising his eyebrows.

"Can I help you, or do you just want to stare at me?"

Tony's grin was a mix between feral and boyish.

"Well, as much as I _love_ to stare at you, look at this!"

Before Bruce could even really process what Tony just said, the other man had already raised his hand, knocking off a pile of notebooks in the process. But Bruce could see why Tony didn't care, even though those were _his_ notebooks and not someone else's. There was a ring on his hand. Nothing fancy, but it looked expensive nonetheless.

"Well, Mister Stark, is Steve finally making an honest man out of you?"

"Yes!" Tony yelled, jumping off the table, still grinning.

"He asked and I said yes and I don't know why," Tony said and actually looked confused.

"I mean, not why I said yes. Have you looked at Steve? It's Steve. But why did he ask me? I mean... he's Steve," Tony continued, almost murmuring at the end, and Bruce could almost see the gears in Tony's head turning, trying to find the catch when there probably wasn't one. As much as Bruce wanted to deny it because Tony _was_ his best friend, everyone who stayed with Tony for longer than a few years was already in it for the long haul after a few weeks.

"Because he loves you and he's a romantic guy. Don't even think about doing one of those flashy expensive weddings to impress him."

Tony shrugged before he nodded and then shrugged again. Then the smile was back.

"Don't read my mind.I didn’t allow you to do that. If you are allowed to read minds, I wanna read minds, too, but sadly I can’t. So, you're coming, right? To the party on Thursday? And the wedding? I mean, you have to be my best man and let me buy you an expensive suit to make you look even more dashing. I'm gonna buy one for Clint, too. That way you have to take him as your date and you'll be forced to have fun."

Bruce chuckled but nodded.

"Yes, Tony. I will come. Even if you won't buy the suits. Maybe I will even have fun for a few minutes. I think I will make an exception, just for you."

"Ha! I knew it, you love me. We should marry instead."

"No. Just like I’ve said for the last twenty years: marry Steve. Otherwise he will look very disappointed. No one wants that."

Tony looked completely horrified for a second before he shook his head.

"No. No one wants that. Natasha would cut off my balls and feed them to me."

Bruce shuddered and nodded, looking back at his work.

"Yes. Oh, and I'll probably be late, though, I need to check a few things for the new serum on Thursday."

He saw that Tony shrugged, already pulling off his jacket and going to his own table, poking at a few things before lifted up a bunsen burner.

"Sure, no problem. Don't forget that Blonsky has his final test on Thursday."

Bruce waved him off even though Tony probably didn't see it.

"Not in lab four. I'm probably joining around eight or half past eight or something," he muttered, trying to note down the equation while taking out his mobile, already dialing Clint's number. Better to ask sooner than later.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yesterday was a bit busy, so you get the new chapter a bit late. I hope you like it <3

Clint didn't know what excited him more: the fact that Tony and Steve were getting married ( _finally!_ ), the fact that Bucky was here and he’d brought Sam ( _again!_ ) or that someone brought his dog.

Probably the dog, because Clint was nothing but honest with himself. Maybe Bruce liked dogs too, and they could get one, if they moved in together? That would be awesome! A big mutt. One from the shelter.

Maybe it was also the way Nick tried to ignore him.

"Okay, last question, I swear, then I'm done!" Clint said, pretending not to see Nick's resigned face. (Of course, no one else could tell the difference, but then again, Clint had almost lived at Natasha's and Nick's apartment on and off for months, so he knew _everything _.)__

__

__"Sure. I'm probably not going to be able to stop you anyway."_ _

__

__"Yes, that's right. Soooooo... when will _you_ make a honest woman out of Nat?"_ _

__

__And God, Clint was glad he had asked that question when a lot of other people were present, because otherwise he would probably be dead already. Maybe he would get murdered anyway, but it was probably worth it. Natasha would look _stunning_ in a wedding dress._ _

__

__"Sheesh, okay. We can't let people know that you're not made out of stone," Clint said with a grin on his face, turning away._ _

__

__"I'm going to look for Bruce then. He promised Tony that he won't be later than half past eight!"_ _

__

__Nick waved him off and Clint felt excused, skipping down his way to the labs, ignoring whatever Nick said because it was probably an insult anyway. Sure, technically it would be just half past eight when Clint arrives at the lab, but half past eight was half past eight. Maybe he could steal a few moments alone with his boyfriend. Even though their communication got better over the last days, that didn't mean that the workload got better. Quite the opposite - not only was Bruce drowning in work, but Clint was too. He didn't enjoy it, not like Bruce did._ _

__

__But Bruce wasn't in his lab._ _

__

__Instead of Bruce, though, there was a different doctor in it, some surgery guy, and he wasn't alone. There was that Blonsky guy again, the one that made Bruce smile, the one that had looked as if he wanted to throw up as soon as he had gotten out of the lab. There was another guy in the lab too, not really looking spectacular either, but holding himself as if he had been military. Just like Blonsky._ _

__

__Clint knew he shouldn't do it. They had talked. Everything was fine. Bruce was working on himself._ _

__

__Then again, Bruce hadn't really talked about prison either. He hadn't even told Clint what it had felt like to be in prison. Clint hadn't even _got an answer_ to his question, just a shrug. He knew that this Blonsky guy could possibly help him. Maybe. If he would even talk to Clint. Before he knew it, he was already inside the lab, fidgeting, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t get noticed. Which was impossible, because Clint hadn't been trying to hide in the first place._ _

__

__"Can I help you?" the doctor asked, voice bored, not looking up from whatever it was he was doing, but Clint still felt as if the man would be aware of every twitch, every movement Clint would do._ _

__

__"Uhm... no. I actually wondered if I could talk with Mister Blonsky for a short minute if the tests are done?"_ _

__

__The doctor didn't react in any way, just wrote something down on his pad, taking off the mask._ _

__

__Blonsky looked at him, gaze sharp, head tilted and eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to find out if Clint was a threat._ _

__

__"Sure," the man finally said, voice not really sounding like Clint had expected. Not as gruff as the man looked._ _

__

__"I'm finished here, anyway, Mister Blonsky. Everything looks the same, so overall, a very positive result. I will reach out to you for extended feedback when I get the blood results, but at the moment, I think we are done. Same as usual, any problems, call Stark Industries or me directly," the doctor drawled, still sounding very bored, almost as if this was everyday business. Which... probably was his every day business. Kind of._ _

__

__"Sure, doc," Blonsky answered while reaching for his shirt, ignoring Clint just like the doctor did. Clint saw the other man leaving the room with the doctor, talking quietly to him but Clint didn't catch what it was about._ _

__

__It was only after Blonsky had dressed that he looked at Clint again._ _

__

__Clint swallowed and doubted that it had been a good idea to just... talk to that man._ _

__

__"I... okay, it may sound strange, I completely admit that, but my name is Clint Barton. You don't know me and I don't know you either, but you know Bruce Banner and I just wanted to know how you got to know him."_ _

__

__If Clint hadn’t been so sure that the other man just wouldn't get up and leave as soon as Clint closed his eyes for more than a blink, he would've slapped himself. _Great speech. Really. Not suspicious at all_._ _

__

__But Blonsky only huffed, sounding almost amused._ _

__

__"Ross already told me about you and that he met you. Let me ask you something, Clint Barton. Are you a fighter?"_ _

__

__"Uhm. What?" Clint asked, sure he lost the thread of the conversation already. What kind of question was that? But Blonsky didn't looked put off. Maybe a bit... amused. There was a bit of pity in that look._ _

__

__"Just like it sounds. I just want to know if you're a fighter."_ _

__

__"Uhm. Yes. Depends on the situation, I think, but overall, yes."_ _

__

__Blonsky nodded and rose from where he was seated. He wasn't tall. Maybe 5'7, but Clint still had felt as if the man was bigger. Maybe it was the build, just like with Bucky._ _

__

__"Good. That's good. It's a survival instinct, you know? Just like flight," he said and then the corner of his mouth twitched._ _

__

__"You should choose flight here, because let me tell you, you won't win this fight. Believe me, I tried and lost a lot more than I thought I would. It's impossible to win. No matter what you survived up to this point, you can't win this fight. Turn around, Clint Barton, and run away as long as it's still an option. Don't. Fucking. Fight."_ _

__

__"Uhm... okay?"_ _

__

__Blonsky smiled at him, looking almost sad._ _

__

__"Good luck. You will need it."_ _

__

__Then he walked away, leaving Clint more confused than ever. Even though he never got his original question answered, his guts still told him that he should listen to Blonsky. He just didn't knew why, and God, that was something he hated._ _

__

__Clint sighed and turned around, slowly walking back to the party, trying to decide what to do now._ _


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more and we are finished! <3

Clint still wasn't any wiser the next day. Everyone who knew him had asked him what had gotten into him yesterday, even Bruce had asked if everything was okay.

How should Clint answer that? He couldn't tell Bruce that he had just asked someone from his past about him, because Clint really didn't want to look controlling or obsessed.Then again, he’d also told Bruce that he wouldn't wait forever for answers, right? In the end Clint had decided to lie and said that he had a headache, grateful that Bruce hadn't pressed the issue, and they’d gone home shortly after. Grateful that no one seemed to doubt that (except Bucky, but that's Bucky. If Natasha hadn't been as tipsy as she had been, she would've noticed too.Then again, maybe she had.)

The small fight with Bruce hadn't helped his mood, either.

"Mister Barton?"

Clint blinked and shook his head, trying to orientate himself. He was standing outside of Stark Industries, completely in the way of everyone else. People were already throwing dark looks at him.

"Mister Barton?"

Oh, yes. Someone had called him. Clint looked around and was surprised to find the guy who had accompanied Blonsky yesterday standing there, looking straight at him. Clint frowned and slowly walked to the man, even more surprised when he smiled at Clint and extended his hand. Sure, his face wasn't exactly friendly while smiling, but it was still... surprisingly civil. Clint took the hand and shook it.

"Hey. Listen, I don't want any problems. If I accidentally opened up old wounds, I didn't intend to."

The other man nods, dropping his hand.

"I know that. Emil knows that. I have an... offer for you. Well, kind of. I was one of the police officers that arrested Banner and worked on his case," the man said and pulled out a file out of his messenger bag. Clint raised both eyebrows, suddenly feeling antsy.

"This is the paper file of that case. It's highly unethical. I could lose my job and I think you know that, at least that's what I gathered from your reaction. You can have it. I don't care for it and I fully intend to move away with Emil as soon as all those fucking tests are done and we talked about the results with the doctor, which will be in two weeks. After that, I never want to hear from you or Banner again. You won't contact us and if we ever meet each other again, we will pretend we don't know each other and go on with our lives. If you can promise me that, you can have that file."

Clint swallowed, still looking at the file in the other man's hand, not knowing what to do. Because on the one hand, Clint was a realist. He _knew_ that he would never get the truth out of Bruce, not completely, if any at all. On the other hand, he just wanted to hope that maybe, just maybe he was wrong.

"Why?" he finally asked and the other man sighed.

"My father told me about you. My name is Everett Ross. I saw what happened. I saw the consequences of what happens if no one cares. I don't want to see it happen to someone else. Last time it ended with nerve damage. This time, it could end with death. To be honest, I don't want to feel responsible and ask myself what could have happened. I want to start over somewhere else, and I don't think I can if I will always have to think about it."

Clint nodded and closed his eyes for a short second. The man, Ross, sounded tired and Clint understood that.

"That's fair," Clint answered and took the file from the other man.

"We have a deal. Have a good life, Mister Ross Junior," Clint said and turned around, the file feeling more heavy than it was. He needed to... God, he didn't know what to do. He just wanted to scream. Or run away. Maybe burn that file. Or maybe to hide under the covers.

Then again, it was his own fault. He had wanted to know about Bruce, after all. Now he just had to decide how much he really wanted to know about everything.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guys... that's it. That's the last chapter. I really hoped that you like it!

Hastily, Clint threw the last of his belongings into his bag.

Stupid. He shouldn't have looked.

No, it had been the right thing to look. It had been the right thing to open up the file. It hadn't been the right thing to trust blindly. To pretend that he could have something that nice.

But he did, and that made it even worse. Furiously, Clint wiped a few tears from his face and started to put the few books he had left here into the bag, freezing when he heard the door open and close again.

"Clint? Are you..." Bruce started and stopped when he saw Clint packing his bag.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, voice flat. Too flat to be real.

"Leaving," Clint answered, noticing how Bruce looked from Clint to the bag. He could see when Bruce saw the file, still laying on the coffee table, but closed. Clint hadn't been able to look at its contents. Bruce stilled even more, his face suddenly losing its color.

"Where did you got that?"

"Doesn't matter. I told you I wouldn’t wait forever," Clint murmured and when there was no reaction he turned to Bruce when he closed his bag.

"What the hell made you think _that this_ wouldn't be important? What the fuck made you think that you going to prison because of domestic violence doesn't matter? I read that fucking thing, how the hell did you only got four years?" Clint snapped, feeling suddenly very hot, not knowing if he wanted to yell at Bruce or just go.

Clint sighed and turned to his bag again.

"Seriously, Bruce, I read that thing. if there would've been a file for my relationship with Todd and Brenda combined, it would've probably looked like that except the prison sentence. We're talking about broken bones and those medical reports indicate sexual violence. Fuck, that guy has _long lasting nerve damages _! For fuck's sake, just say something!"__

__

__Clint yelled the last part because Bruce still only stood there, not saying anything, not even indicating that he listened to Clint. Bruce sighed and when Clint turned around the other man still stood there but had taken his glasses off, looking tired. No matter how stupid he felt for it, he felt guilty that he put that look on Bruce's face. There was probably a very good reason for..._ _

__

__Clint shook his head and looked at Bruce._ _

__

__"First I didn't know how and then you told me about _your_ past and it was already too late for me and I didn't want you to leave. Those years with Emil aren't exactly years I'm proud of, and I'm glad I went to prison because god knows what would've happened if I didn't. For your other question - Tony has really good lawyers."_ _

__

__Clint choked up a laugh. Sure. Tony. How could he forget. _Tony_ , who fucking knew why Bruce had been to prison. Just like Steve. And no one said one fucking word. Sure, privacy is nice, but Clint really didn't want to know..._ _

__

__"Did Natasha know?" he asked, dreading the answer, feeling like an asshole when Bruce shrugged._ _

__

__"I don't think so. I didn't tell her, Tony as far as I know didn’t either. Maybe Steve, but then Natasha and Steve didn't really talk to each other at the time."_ _

__

__Clint was relieved. At least, Natasha didn't lie to him. Probably. Clint shook his head, feeling a laugh bubbling inside his chest._ _

__

__"You know what the funny part is of this awful fucking thing? That I meant what I said at first. When I asked if it had anything to do with kids or animals. I wouldn't have... no, that's not right. I would have cared about it. I would have been more careful, or at least I'd like to think I would have been. But it _wouldn't have_ mattered, because I saw what kind of turns people can take. How fast they can change. It wouldn't have been important for me, not really, because you tried and somehow we could've made work. I could have helped, you know? Because even if it doesn't seem like it, I'm smarter than I was back then. But now I lost my trust in you, the most important thing for me in a relationship."_ _

__

__Clint swallowed and threw his bag over his shoulder, putting his key to Bruce's apartment on the file on the coffee table before walking to the door._ _

__

__"Don't call. I... just don't, I don't think I could do it," he murmured before he left the flat, not caring anymore about the tears that were falling down on his face._ _

__

__It could've worked. He knew that. Bucky would have slapped him, would have cussed at him if he'd known, but Clint was pretty convinced that it could have worked. People changed. Now he’d lost the one thing he really had wanted to keep. The one thing he had dared to hope to keep._ _

__

__Clint wasn't surprised that he ended up in front of Bucky's door. He wasn't even surprised that it opened without knocking. Bucky had probably started to wait behind the door after Clint had called. That was probably how everything would end. Him at Bucky's door. Bucky sighed and pulled him into a hug and Clint felt more tears falling down the face when he started to sob. It took a few minutes until he could speak again._ _

__

__"Offer still standing? To have the couch?" he asked, clinging more at Bucky than he probably should, never wanting to let go. A small kiss got pressed to his hair._ _

__

__"Sure. We can share the bed too, if you need it," Bucky whispered before he pulled Clint into the apartment, seemingly not caring that Clint still had one hand fisted into Bucky's shirt._ _

__

__Only now did Clint realize that he smelled Mac'n'Cheese, the kind only Nick made if comfort food was needed._ _

__

__"Natalia and Nick are here. They're both in the kitchen."_ _

__

__Clint nodded and let go of Bucky's shirt, putting his bag down and curled up on the couch, just looking into nothing until a steaming bowl was put into his hands. Confused, Clint looked up, but Nick had already turned away again, sitting on the other couch._ _

__

__"Wanna talk about it, whatever it is?" Bucky asked, ignoring his own bowl. Clint just shook his head. He hadn't told Bucky, but Bucky was smart, he would figure it out. And if not, he would pester Steve. Clint whimpered and looked down on his bowl._ _

__

__"A friend of us is moving back to the States. He's leaving the army and needs a roommate. If you want to, I can set up a meeting. I will go with you," Natasha said and Clint knew that this was her way of showing that she cared. That she felt guilty, at least partially guilty for whatever happened._ _

__

__Clint shrugged._ _

__

__"Maybe. I will think about it."_ _

__

__Natasha just nodded and started to dig into her own food, knowing not to press the issue._ _

__

__Bucky let himself fall down next to Clint, his own bowl abandoned somewhere._ _

__

__"Whatever it is, we will survive that too. Just out of spite."_ _

__

__Even if he didn't want to, Clint snorted. Bucky was probably right. They’d survived worse, after all. They just patched up the cracks that came because otherwise, someone else would win._ _

__And they couldn‘t have that, could they?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that it may not be the end some of you want to have. But it felt as if this was the best end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a request, [just visit my Tumblr and drop me a message](https://ruquas.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, at the moment it could take me a bit to respond to comments due to heavy anxiety. I can assure you, I read the comment and will get back to you as soon as I can <3


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